Blankets and Nets
by get-it-on65
Summary: While struggling with his own problems, Shawn learns of a new and frighteningly dangerous world that has been going on right under his nose. Can he help uncover the disturbing secret that lies within his own community [Rated over 15's for Lang and Vio]
1. Introduction

**BLANKETS & NETS**

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

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**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Introduction: -------------------------

He looks down at me

He calls me pathetic

I try not to care, but

He makes me feel sick

Throws me across the room

And I hope that he'll stop soon

He begins to throw a punch

And I swear I heard a crunch

As he gives me a cold glare

I try to look as though I care

He kicks me in the stomach

Then he turns me over, WHACK!

I'm used to this by now

But I still don't know how

How he can have a soul

To dig such a deep dark hole

There's anger in his eyes

As he listens to my cries

But I've learnt to live

With bruises for a blanket

And he knows how

To use his fists as a net

To catch me

When I try to run

To keep me

From having fun

It's a routine now

But still I don't know how

How he can have a conscience

To do the things he does.

More blows rain down on me

Wont be long until

I wont be able to see

The darkness will take over

And then all I see is her

My so-called mother

Could there be any other?

She'll sigh and clean my wounds

She starts to sing some tunes

Tries to sooth my pain

I do think she's gone insane

At least she doesn't hurt me

At least for now I am free

But I know that soon

He will be back

Only to carry on

His vicious attack

I lie in my mother's arms

Until my shaking calms

I keep the tears at bay

Pushing them away

Have to hold them tight

Can't let them blur my sight

Can't let him see my weakness

Just let him make his mess

And let mom clean it up.

- Shawn Hunter, twelve.

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Well there's the beginning of quite a long story ladies and gentlemen… Enjoy. R&R if possible. Thanks all. Cesca, x


	2. Chapter 1: So Suddenly

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter One: So Suddenly -------------------------

Shawn looks over the homework sheet in front of him.

"I can't deal with this right now" he tells himself and he pushes the paper aside. "I'm probably gonna fail 8th grade anyway"

It's only 6pm but he decides to get some sleep, besides Cory's off visiting his grandma or uncle or something like that and he doesn't feel much like calling up one of the many girls numbers he owns.

He wants to get some sleep before Chet gets home, drunk like he always is, and he supposes he could get at least five, six hours sleep before then.

Shawn yawns and rubs his eyes; he hadn't gotten much sleep the night night before. Chet had been in another one of his moods. He usually only acts moody as an excuse to get at him, but ever since his wife had left he's been more moody than usual. He'd totally tore up the trailer. Luckily Shawn hadn't been caught in the crossfire, but he'd had to spend half the night cleaning up the mess it had created.

He yawns again and lies his head down on the desk. He'd have to get new sheets soon - lend money off of or do some odd job for one of the families he knew around the trailer park to pay for them. His father had accidentally thrown up all over his bed and he isn't willing to sleep on the same sheets again. Mainly because this wasn't the first time this had happened, but he wasn't to good at getting things washed either.

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"SHAWN!"

Shawn awakens with a start.

"Shawn!" the voice repeats sternly.

He looks up only to be greeted with a hard slap to the face.

"Did ya even try to do this homework?" Chet says irritably.

After placing his hand lightly on his cheek, he begins to attempt to speak.

"Yeah...yes I did sir, bu...but, but"

"STOP ST...ST...STUTTERING! YOU'RE A USELESS EXCUSE FOR A SON! YA KNOW THAT? ALL YOU EVER DO IS DISAPPOINT ME!" Chet yells angrily.

Fearing another hit, Shawn sits silently; avoiding eye contact with this man - this man who is supposed to be his father figure and the one person he can trust in the world.

"Anyway, you should be in bed, why the hell did you fall asleep 'ere, hey?" Chet questions him.

That's it. Shawn is suddenly overthrown by a wave of anger he hadn't seen coming. He isn't going to be blamed for sleeping at a desk, all because his own drunken father had puked all over his bed.

"Oh, give me a moment to think about that dad." Shawn states, spitting as his heart now thumps hard against his chest. "…Maybe it's because you threw up ALL OVER MY DAMN BED!" his voice becomes somewhat more threatening as he finishes his statement.

Chet appears confused for a moment. He knows he's made a mistake, but he also knows he has the power not to care about it. His expression changes in 5 seconds flat and his eyes now burn with hatred. He abruptly grabs Shawn by the arms and pulls him closer towards him.

"Don't you ever...EVER raise your voice to me again, ya hear!" he spits also.

Shawn can feel his hot oily breath begin to spread over his face. He closes his eyes and struggles to get free, the deadly stench of alcohol smothering him - but he knows all well not to struggle. It will only make matters worse, but he just can't take it any longer.

"I never wanted you." Chet whispers hoarsely.

"Your mother never wanted you...that's why she left, because she couldn't stand live with her dumb ass mistake of a son…"

These words seem to cut deep, despite the fact that Shawn has enough sense to know they are all lies. His mother had told him many times she would leave; she had only stayed because of Shawn. She hadn't left because of him; she'd left because of her mistake of a husband.

"She would never leave because of me, it was your fault - you were the mistake" he finds himself letting lose a half suppressed laugh. "...and you have the balls to blame me - you bastard, you... hypocrite... You were the fking mistake, a mistake of a husband, and a mistake of a father too. The worst mistake she could have ever made."

A sense of freedom lets him breathe for a moment. Finally he's been able to get those words out, finally he's been able to speak the truth, and talk over Chets lies and cheats. Of course, he soon regrets those words and is left wondering if tonight will be the night death will finally set him free.

'Why hasn't he done anything yet?' Shawn questions in his mind. Usually he'd have beaten him by now - especially after what he'd just said. Chet stares at his son.

"Turn around" he commands flatly.

Shawn doesn't question why. He's in too much trouble to make things worse with his dumb ass mumbles. It would be better to just get things over and done with. His heart, which had already been pounding at his chest for a rather long time, begins race a little faster once more as he turns and faces the wall. His stomach isn't doing him much good either - it clenches as he squeezes the material of his jeans with his visibly shaking hands. He closes his eyes once more, trying to stop himself from throwing up. Chet can be heard fumbling with his belt. He's going to belt him. He hates these kinds of beatings. They leave red marks and sometimes draw blood from his back. He has to hide them during P.E. lessons and it can prove quite the task.

The longer he waits for the whippings to begin the more he can feel his stomach turning more so beneath his smelly old t-shirt. It worries him - the way Chet is acting so out of the ordinary. Taking so long. And it's so quiet. All that can be heard is the sound of his own breathing, gradually becoming heavier and heavier and heavier… until his father brakes the silence.

"Ya know Shawn, I wasn't gonna to do this...but ya left me with no choice after your li'l act there..." He pauses.

Shawn is now pretty sure he can't be as drunk as he originally assumed he was. He isn't slurring his words or anything like that and he doesn't seem to be very unbalanced on his feet.

"...Ya know" He begins again. "I saw somethin' on my way home, that made me kinda think. This boy just a few years older than you, standing on the street, askin' for money...money for sex...He had smart lookin' clothes on, looked like he made quite a lot..."

'What the hell is Chet getting at?'

"...Wouldn't you like to make money? Do something useful with your life"

Shawn gulps.

"If you're thinking this is a request Shawn - you're sadly mistaken" Chet says smirking, even though Shawn can't see his face but he begins to sound more and more sober as the seconds pass by.

Shock envelopes Shawn's mind like a deer stuck in headlights. He wants him to be a rent boy... He can run right now. Go tell everyone about Chet - tell them all that he had done to him in the past, and most of all what he was planning to do with him now. 'Go! Go now' his brain tells him, but his legs do not respond.

His father lays a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't see it coming, as he pushes him towards the floor, punching him in the face as he does so. The world suddenly transforms into a kaleidoscope, images forming and breaking apart in front him. When he can finally see once more he realises Chet has removed his jeans, and is now tugging at his boxers.

"NO..." he screams "GET OFF!"

He begins to struggle real hard, but his father's grip is too strong for him to over power. He begins to cry - not out of pain, but out of pure fear. He isn't a dumb ass like everyone suspects him to b - he just doesn't care enough about education to try. See, he cares more about surviving - like anyone in his situation does. Some kids get stuck into school work, trying to give themselves a future to hope for, a better life. Shawn however, Shawn's just so far past having something to hope for that he's given up on a future worth living. He thinks he knows what the future holds. He definitely knows what's in store for him at this exact moment, and is sends the most terrible of shivers down his spine.

"See Shawn, this is what you get for your lack of respect," his father says, as he almost silently, as deadly as can be, edges closer towards his son.

He longs, he prays, and he hopes for slow motion to kick in, just so it can keep Chet as far away from him as possible for as long as possible. Only, he knows that this isn't going to happen...

"No…" he sobs, panting, and taking short intakes of air, before his screaming takes over.

The huge throbbing pain surging through his body, tearing at his insides continues to rip into him. Chet's laughter rings in his head; it sounds so far away. He tries repressing the screams but they seep out anyway. He's in complete agony and no one is around to care.

"Stop...please..." he squeaks; managing to force those two words out.

Tears rain down his face as he clenches his fists, trying to block out the pain and humiliation.

"I'm just getting you ready boy..." he hears just before he passes out.

These words echo around his skull before the darkness takes over. 'Ready…Ready for what?…Oh God', he couldn't go through this pain and torment again...

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Hmm...a review sounds lovely to me too, hehe. Hope you're all doing fantastic and liked this chapter. See-ya for now people. Cesca, x


	3. Chapter 2: Stuck

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 2: Stuck -------------------------

Shawn follows the hairs on the back of his neck, his finger tips trailing the back his head as he feels a large bumpy lump has formed there. He tries to figure out exactly what's happened to him. The lump on the back of his head, if he can recall, comes from when he had hit the floor after his father had pushed him down. Then he suddenly remembers an unbelievably unbearable pain, the pain he'd felt just before he must have passed out and then... the burning humiliation in the pit of his stomach.

It's so cold. He realises his legs are bare and tries to stand to get something to wear. The moment he does so he is thrown backwards by a sharp unbelievably striking pain in the area of his rectum. He falls back onto the floor and has to use all his strength to refrain from crying. He can't walk. His backside aches like nothing he's ever experienced before. He sits there in an odd position, leaned up against the wall, stunned as he tries to block out any memories of what his father has done to him.

"No, no it's just a nightmare. Its not real, its not..." he mumbles to himself, unable to handle the truth. "Oh, my head..." he whispers, hanging it into his palms as he edges himself to the floor again. His head wont stop throbbing.

Since he can't stand, he decides to attempt to crawl over to his drawers. Breathing heavily, he puts one arm in front of the other, one leg painfully being dragged along, and eventually he makes it over to them. With a struggle he opens them. Tugging out a pair of his shredded jeans, he quietly cries as he tries to get them on without causing too much pain. When his pants are finally on he begins to crawl around slowly. He tries not to make a sound as he looks for his sneakers. Noticing his tattered shirt lying limply across his shoulders, he fastens the few buttons that had survived the night together.

Finally he spots his sneakers in a corner beside the kitchen bin. Without making a sound, he crawls quietly out of this place where he lives, this trailer home. How can he call such a place his home - a place in which its walls are so scarred with painful and unhappy memories. What right do those walls have to make that assumption, lying to him, telling him they were there to protect him, but never did such a thing.

So now... he's out of there; Past the over crowded black bins, and the wire fences with their ugly peeling signs; Past the tall uncut weeds, and sandy rocks that always find a way to sneak into his shoes. He staggers away from the trailer park and down empty isolated streets. And once far, far away he stops, catching his breath and resting his poor battered body. He is leaning against the opening wall of an alleyway. Probably not the best of places to stop, but he is much too distracted to care. He slides down the alley wall and into what sitting position he could assemble himself into. He just had to get away from there.

'What do you not understand?' a raspy echoed voice asks him from within his head.

He talks to himself when there's no one else around. When there's no one else to care, he talks to himself.

'What do you mean?' Shawn replies.

'What do you not understand?' the voice repeats, in the same flat tone.

'Whatever, I'm going crazy... You wanna know what I don't understand?" He sighs. "What I really don't understand is how this world can be such a fking messed up tragedy! One thing after another. I don't care if I'm fking moanin' I'm sick of all this shit! Its just not fair...'

'What don't you understand?' the voice repeats a third time, dark and brooding.

'...I don't understand why life has to be such a struggle' he replies once more.

'Why does it have to be so hard. I don't understand why bad people get away with everything and the good people, well they just get fked over'

'What don't you like?' says the voice.

'I don't like it when people look at other people' he answers. 'Always Judging everything, everyone, just cause they have their perfect little lives and if you don't have one yourself you might as well not exist. It might be better that way...'

He pauses.

'And you know what I really don't like - The way things can go from okay to absolute agony in just a matter of seconds.'

He can feel the voice inside his head, waiting to pounce on him with that same annoying question again and so he beats him to it.

'I don't like that feeling you get when you realise you can't change the world, you can't change people, but most of all you can't take that evil away. It's always there. Its there for good and every day I have to put up with it...'

'Goodbye for now' the raspy voice mutters and Shawn is left in the silence of his mind.

He sighs once more. He's all alone again with not even himself to comfort him. Not that he ever needed comforting; after all, he can handle what life throws at him. He doesn't need comfort. Who's he kidding? He's so messed up. He stares down at a piece of gum plastered into the cold concrete surface. He thinks about how, so many people everyday just walk over it, stepping on it, not even noticing it. It'll never be able to unstick itself. It'll always be trampled on - just like him. A tear slowly makes its way down Shawn's cheek and drips from his chin, landing onto the tangible surface below. He can't go back there. He tells himself this, but he knows in his heart of hearts he'll end up having to.

-------------------------

"Hey kid…

There is a slight cough and clear of throat.

"...kid?"

He hears the voice, but he doesn't want to respond.

"Kid, you awake?"

Obviously not. Shawn rolls his eyes, as he forces them open. A street lamps glare catches him off guard and he raises his arms to his face instinctively.

"Yeah... what do you want?" he asks hastily, unable to see.

"I was just seeing if you were okay" the voice states in a friendly manner.

It's a male voice. Young. Teenage. Unthreatening.

"Well I'm fine...I'm just, well I'm okay all right..." he lies, as his vision finally clears, and he sees a tall dark haired young man, who couldn't be much older than himself staring down at him.

"Like erm, what's all that blood then?" the young man says hesitantly, directing his eyes toward Shawn's jeans.

The material of his pants is drenched in blood. It extends down towards his groin area and has begun to turn a shade of pale brown, patched with crimson reds.

"Eh, erm..." he mumbles, "...it, it's just that I, I well..." he closes his mouth, exhales deeply and then stares at the ground.

He can't think of a lie good enough to fool this guy. It's obvious what happened to him, more so by the dark shade of pink that appears as his cheeks flush.

"Erm, you... look cold" the guy states as he begins to pull his jacket off.

"No, really it, it's okay. I'm fine, I'm okay...really…' Shawn replies.

"No you're not, you're bleeding, you're wearing a torn up shirt and jeans and from the looks of it you've got a huge shiner forming across you're face. Trust me, you're not fine." He opens his mouth to say something else but just ends up closing it again, sighing as he does so.

"No, listen, I'll be fine if I can just... all I just need...to..." Shawn hears his own voice crack. He's desperately trying to keep cool, not to break down and reveal how vulnerable he is right now, but before he knows it, the young man has wrapped his jacket around his pale bruised shoulders. He gives in and let himself enjoy the warmth. It envelopes him like an electric blanket in the cold.

"What time is it?" Shawn asks dizzily.

"It's half two in the morning" he replies.

"Who…why, why are you hanging around here at half two in the morning anyway?" Shawn questions curiously.

Focusing, the guy only looked to be about sixteen, maybe seventeen.

"I was just hangin' around" he states quickly. "I like to walk the streets to clear my mind... I didn't expect to find a half naked boy lying an alleyway though... How old are you?"

"Fourteen, how old are you?"

"Eighteen" He raises his eyebrows as he speaks.

"You look younger" Shawn states, somewhat surprised.

"Yup, I get that a lot... Look, you don't have to tell me what happened, but you do need help, if you come back to my place I'll help you out, I know it probably sounds dangerous, and its not something I would find appealing in your situation but I just get the feeling you don't wanna go to some hospital" He rubs at an itch on his chin, and lets his arm flop back down to his side.

Shawn thinks about this for a few seconds. He is right. He isn't going to no hospital, but he isn't sure about going back to a strangers place. He guesses it would probably be better than going back to his father though, and even at this moment he doesn't much care for his own welfare anyhow.

"Sure, why not" he mutters, trying to push himself up into a standing position.

"Woa there..." the dark haired 18 year old says, bending down to help him out. "Ya gotta careful, you're already a mess"

"Thanks" Shawn sniffs.

"By the way" the boy says as he helps Shawn walk along, "My name's Mike...But you can call me Mikey."

"Erm, thanks, Mike… erm, Mikey. My name is Shawn" he smiles a little at the kindness of this stranger and half because he wants to give off a better impression of himself, because deep down his many wounds are all open, infected, and still tearing him apart inside.

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Thanks for all the reviews - I love you all : P Cesca, x


	4. Chapter 3: Ditto

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 3: Ditto -------------------------

"Wow, this is a pretty neat place for a guy you're age...your parents rich or something?"

Mikey doesn't reply. Shawn wanders around Mikey's apartment. It's big, but not too big. He stands in the living room and glances around - a pale green curtain to the side of the room drapes over a small window. He finds himself gazing out of it and down at the lonely street below. The walls are a dark shade of blue with squiggles of white dancing across the top of them. A small heater sits in the far centre of the room, opposite a cottony sofa and within a metres distance of a small television resting on a old wooden drawer. He finds the whole place kind of roomy and lets the warmth from the heater circulate around his body, helping to drift his mind away from ugly thoughts. Mikey shuffles past him asking if he wants something to drink.

And not wanting to impose he replies "No thanks" and forces a small smile of appreciation. "But... can I sit down?" he asks.

Mikey laughs shyly. "Of course, you don't need my permission to sit" he says.

Shawn drags himself over to the pale red couch and drops onto it in an instant. The comfort and relief is such that for a moment his troubles float far, far away. Considering he had been sleeping with his head resting upon a wooden desk prior to being beaten and... he would never like to think of such things again, but of course they'd always be there. But the comfort of a soft cottony couch that he could just sink into and drown away into non-existent thoughts was something that words could not describe. He still

aches all over, but he often aches most days anyway.

"So... what do you do for a living?" he questions, his voice meek and shy.

Mikey sits beside him.

"I. Well, I work in an office at the moment"

Shawn nods, "Cool" he nods, "cool".

He looks down at his hands, his fingers intertwined with more fingers and... blood. Blood - He's still bleeding, his pants are still wet with stains of blood. He quickly stands. Looking down at the couch where he had been sat, he sees a small streak of blood smeared across the spot where he had been resting. It almost blends in with the colour, but at the same time stands out a mile away. It is drying, staining quickly.

"Oh God, I'm sorry...I, I'll clean it up. God, I'm sor..."

A sudden rush of pain finally digs into him as the effect of standing up so quickly reaches his central nervous system. He lets out a child like cry and drops to his knees, breathing heavily, and digging his fingernails into the palm of his hands in fists or torment. Mikey is at his side with his arm now wrapped around Shawn's shoulder.

"Shhh..." He soothes.

"I...I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose..." Shawn repeats, trying to hold back tears of pain and humiliation, but failing miserably.

"It's okay Shawn, I don't care about the couch." Mikey says softly. "Do you want to lie down? Do you want to take a bath? I can wash your clothes for you, if you want" he asks. "I can lend you some clothes for now."

Shawn concentrates on his breathing and replies "You don't have to do this."

His confusion over Mikeys' kindness warps his view of the world and he finds himself jumping to all sorts of conclusions. He wonders when this kindness will end, if that's even what it is.

"I want to…" Mikey replies.

"Why, why would you want to help me...why would you wanna help me without gaining something in return, I mean, you don't even know me..."

Chets words echo in his mind, and the events of that night replay and replay. He'd more or less said the only thing he is good for is sex...rape. That he should make a living out of it. Is that how pathetic people see him as? Is that all they think he would be good for? He shakes the thoughts out of his head, but they just keep coming back to haunt him.

"I'm, I'm not into sex, I'm just scared, please don't expect that from me…please d..don't..." he stutters without thinking and tries to sound threatening, but again he fails miserably.

If he were to listen to himself later on he'd probably find the phrase 'I'm not into sex' a little odd coming from a teenage boy, having had many girlfriends (still he's virgin if ever there was one), but considering the state he's in he doesn't much care about that right now. Mikey's face drops as he realizes the implications of what Shawn saying, of what he thinks he wants to do to him.

"I...I would never take advantage of you, I wouldn't do that..."

Shawn isn't listening. His mind is still replaying his father's words over and over again.

"No..." he begins to struggle, but is very weak from the nights events. "Please…"

Mikey lets go of him, and steps backward. "Shawn, I wouldn't do that, listen to me...you needed help, I'm trying to help you...that's all."

He still doesn't listen to him. He tries to stand and walk away but just drops to the floor again. Eventually he gives up and buries his face in his arm, his body limp and stretched out across the living-room carpet. He cries as quietly as he can, which turns out to be quite loud.

"I want to walk" he sobs "Why can't I run, why can't I ever escape anyone..."

Mikey feels the deepest stab of sympathy for this poor boy he had only met a half hour before. He wants to comfort him and ease his pain and suffering, but seeing how fragile and petrified he is, he figures right now that isn't such a good idea. He isn't going to gain Shawn's trust by giving him a hug and telling him everything is going to be all right. He knows he can only help heal his physical wounds, for now anyway.

"Shawn...Shawn, I, I know what your going through, and believe me it's okay to cry...I understand why you would jump to such a conclusion and really, I don't blame you"

Mikey pauses. Shawn sniffs, his nose and eyes sore and red. He's still crying but he begins to listen to what Mikey is saying, if only a little.

"Just, just never mind about the couch, you're more important than a dumb couch...it's just"

He stops again.

"...Just that I know what your going through..."

Shawn suddenly interrupts him, yelling. "How? How can you know the hell I go through...everything fucking day! How can you possibly know...How can anyone know? How? How? How!"

Mikey loses it.

"BECAUSE MY FATHER ABUSED ME TOO!" he cries.

Mikey feels tears wet his eyes. He lowers his voice.

"I…I know, because I went through what you did. At least I know that I must have gone through something similar. I heard your question earlier and no my parents aren't rich...My mother's somewhere half across the world. She left when I was six…she never really wanted children anyway. She made it clear I was a 'mistake'. My father - well, he loved to play vicious games with me... First it started with a slap here and there, and then everything was suddenly my fault. We were short of money - 'It's your fault Mike! - if you hadn't have drove her away...' That's when he decided I was going to make up for it all. I was nine, and he started renting me out to people...like a fucking object..."

Mikey's voice cracks...He is in the same vulnerable position Shawn had just been in.

"...God I hated it, obviously, some of them actually got at me for not 'enjoying it' myself sick bastards... but eventually I got used to it. One day I woke up and I couldn't remember what life was like before. I couldn't remember what it was like to think I could fly if I really tried hard enough. I suppose that's something that happens to everyone though. But it was my life, and what more can you do other than live it. You'd be surprised at what a child can put up with. It still hurt, of course it still hurt, it still hurts now...but so many times, I can't even remember on count...it doesn't matter any more anyway. I ran away when I was 14. I'd ran away before but the cold had always got to me or the police found me and brought me back. This time though, I didn't go back... and no one found me..."

He finishes and rubs his eyes for a moment. He couldn't believe he'd just shared such an intimate moment of revealing his secrets to this young man whose name he'd only just discovered. He'd never told anyone that before. He slides into an armchair just a few metres away from Shawn.

He sighs one final time. "I know you're scared, but really... I'm honestly trying to help you."

Shawn can't believe it. This guy had been through what he had been through, no wonder he'd stopped to help. Until he'd been through it, he couldn't have imagined the amount of pain it caused. He wishes he could help people who'd been through the same fked up reality, but what can he do, he's just a kid... But Mikey - He isn't much older and he's doing so much for him.

-------------------------

"You okay in there Shawn?"

Mikey's voice distracts him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, thanks" he replies.

They don't have a bath in the trailer. They have a shower. The feeling of lying down, covered in a warm blanket of water eased his pain a lot. For a few moments he sinks lower into the tub and forgets his troubles.

Splashing his face, he rests his hands on the sides of the bath, they stay there for some moments. He doesn't want to surface. Nothing can get him here. Not even the sharp voice of his fathers yells. He pulls himself up, careful not to fall. It wouldn't be too clever if he were to fall and drown in the bath. No, not clever, but at least a release. He shakes his head in a sigh and steps out of the bath.

"You've hung on this long Shawnee, there'd be no point in giving up now," he whispers to himself.

Oh God, he's using Cory's nickname for him.

"Okay, maybe I should kill myself" he says, chuckling somewhat at the thought of Cory's face the last time he'd seen him. He'd been watching Topanga as she hugged and kissed another boy rather friendlily on the cheek. Turns out the boy was her younger brother Cody. Only Cory had been standing there mouth agape as he stared frantically at the two.

Shawn stares into the bathroom mirror. His face is a little swollen from one of his fathers blows. The large bruise Mikey had told him about sticks out defiantly upon his right cheek. Apart from that, he doesn't look too bad. He'd looked worse. You wouldn't know he'd endured something so brutal. Unless of course you could see him walking, or moreorless stumbling along. Okay so there were the few fading bruises on his chest, arms, and legs... maybe even a little more than a few…but hey, they would heal. It's that depressing sickly feeling, that 'disgusted with yourself, even though it wasn't your fault' kind of feeling that will always be there. He pulls himself away from the mirror. He wants to get back in the bath and forget, but he doesn't want to take too long. He doesn't want to seem like he doesn't appreciate everything Mikey has given him. Finishing with the towel, he grabs for the clothes Mikey left resting upon the bar on the door.

"Hey, I'm making Macaroni and cheese" Mikey smiles enthusiastically.. a kind of innocent smile.

Shawn smiles back. Mikey seems like a kid. In a way, he still is, but compared with Shawn, he wasn't. Maybe he hasn't had too much company before and is excited at the thought of not being alone in his usually isolated apartment. Shawn wishes he could just stay here for the rest of his life. Mikey is so friendly, so understanding. Of course - because he knows about Shawn, he knows what it feels like. There aren't any people Shawn knows who are like that.

He can't stay here forever though. He knows Cory cares; Cory's family too. They'd probably try to find him. Then they'd find out what happened, but unlike Mikey, they wouldn't understand. He can imagine a look of sympathy in their eyes. A look of sympathy and disappointment at the same time. 'How could you let him do that to you Shawn?' They wouldn't say it, but he'd feel it either way. He can't let that happen.

"I wish I could stay here forever," he says aloud, not noticing Mikey behind him.

He doesn't know why he keeps saying things out loud. Maybe he thinks, if he says these things out loud they might come true.

"I wish you could too," Mikey cuts in, startling Shawn.

He soon thinks about how that sounds and then tries to rephrase it.

"Well, you know, I get really lonely here, it's nice to actually have someone to erm, talk to...You know what you said about not being into sex, well..."

Mikey waves raises his eyebrows.

"...I'm not too much into it either... I don't even know what all the hype is about it anyway. Sex can be bad too, well i suppose that's rape, but even consented... well just sex can be evil... well... not that sex is evil, I mean if two people love each other then or even like each other I guess, then it's okay, just when...well ya know..." he stops realising he is mumbling and making no sense at all and that the subject isn't such a good one.

Shawn's face is now a mixture of pure amusement and embarrassment.

"Erm, yeah, I'm sorry - I tend to get carried away. Probably comes with spending so much time having conversations with myself... Yeah." He stops talking and sits back biting his lip nervously.

Shawn smirks. "It's okay. You're a kid, just like me. We get lonely, just cause we need a friend doesn't mean we want a relationship with someone, I mean I'm straight, you?"

"Yeah, yup I'm straight" Mikey states.

"What time is it?" Shawn asks for the third time that night.

"It's actually five in the morning, oh man we should probably get some sleep, I know I really should...you can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, no…I couldn't throw you out of your own bed" Shawn objects.

"Look, after what you've been through, you need to sleep in a proper bed, plus I wont take no for an answer"

Shawn sighs, wincing as he reaches over for the macaroni and cheese. It's quite delicious. The last time he'd had a proper hot meal had been when he stayed for tea at Cory's about 2 weeks ago.

"Look, you can sleep in all day tomorrow, ya know, get all your energy back."

Shawn looks up at Mikey.

"How am I ever gonna repay you?" he asks, a lightly serious expression on his face.

"By recoverin' and getting on with life…better than I did, by getting away from what's bothering you" he smiles, but his eyes tell a different story.

"Thank you, so much. You know I wont forget this right?" Shawn begins.

He can feel his eyes wet with tiny salty droplets, but they aren't tears of sadness or fear, they're tears of thanks. They are tears which say, 'look what you've done for me, you've been helped me so much that I'm actually crying tears of other than tears of pain of sadness'.

"...Just...Thanks" he finishes.

He can say no more than that. He is so overwhelmed. He hasn't eaten for about ten hours so you'd think he'd be quite hungry, but he just takes one more mouthful of macaroni and cheese and asks if he can go to sleep now.

"Sure, you don't need my permission for everything you know," Mikey replies. He lets lose a small laugh and tells him he'll clear the plates and everything up and that the sheets are newly cleaned and fresh.

As Shawn lays his head upon the feathered pillow, he smiles. He pushes the pain and suffering and all the bad memories to the back of his mind. For now he feels safe. For now, he doesn't feel scared or alone. He doesn't feel unwanted or pathetic. For now he feels safe. Nothing else should matter.

-------------------------

Hey well I've finally finished this chapter, hope you liked it, review if you want, would be helpful... Cya for now, Cesca, x


	5. Chapter 4: Soul of a Poet

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 4: Soul of a Poet -------------------------

Here I feel

Out of harm's way, and

Though I've had to be strong

Right now the air

That I breathe is pure

I've found a way to belong

Cling onto what I have

Like I cling onto life

For once in my world

I can feel safe and warm

As this blanket around me

Has now set me free

Even if for only

A small slice of my life

I am not alone

I am not afraid...

I am finally here,

But I'm in the shade

Shawn stares at the ceiling. Maybe he should write this down but he doesn't want to risk anyone seeing it. It isn't that he doesn't trust Mikey - though of course there is still quite a lot of doubt in his mind about Mikey and his intentions and it will take longer than one night to convince him of Mikey's honesty, but no one has ever been this nice and honest toward him before. No one that is except for Cory and his family and he guessed Mr. Feeny meant well, but he still trusts Mikey more than anyone else, aside from Cory. He knows him well enough to know he would never be a threat. Poetry. No one knows he writes poetry. Not even Cory.

'What do you like?' That blank, cold voice is back. It repeats the question.

more than once.

'I don't know, why do you ask?' he doesn't know why he asks questions back. He never receives an answer.

'What do you like?' the voice asks once again.

'I like, I like, Mikey, and Cory, and Tapanga, I guess. I like ice cream from the tub. I like hot dogs at fair grounds, and when I walk through school with a new shirt on...'

'What have Cory and Tapanga ever done for you - really?'

'They've done a lot... now drop it!' Shawn begins to get frustrated.

The annoyingly hoarse voice won't leave him alone. If only it would leave him be.

'What have they ever done for you?' it repeats.

'Cory was there for me...when no one else would be, when no one else cared enough to be there...' he closes his eyes in morbid remembrance of a time when it was only him and Cory.

'You're not real, ya now? You're just a figment of my imagination, or something like that... Apparently, well I read somewhere anyway, that kids when they are lonely, when they are alone, they're subconscious makes up someone for them to talk to, anything... Why did my subconscious make you?!'

He is yelling inside his mind, but no actual words are spoken.

'Go on then, what have they ever done for you?' the voice repeats calmly after a small moment of buzzing.

'You're just trying to ruin everything...you're the doubt that lives inside me, the doubt, the untrustworthy son of a bitch who keeps me from caring about anyone, anything...I hate you...I hate you more him...I hate you...'

Before he'd known it, he had fallen into a deep sleep. Having woken up at about nine am, this is when he had begun to think about Mikey and such things. That is when he made up the poem. That's when his thoughts were invaded by the gruff voice and now he's asleep again.

-------------------------

3:02pm, Friday 13th May 1994.

-------------------------

"Hey sleepy head... I brought you some soup, I thought after that bang on your head, you'd have a pretty bad head ache"

Shawn yawns. He can't even remember the poem he'd thought of earlier. Oh well, better if it were never seen anyway.

"God...did I just use the phrase 'sleepy head'... what am I becoming?" Mikey mutters, laying the tray he's carrying down on the bedside table near Shawn.

He's still wearing a pair of his boxer shorts, and one of his over sized t-shirts.

Shawn smirks. "You sound like my mom...before she left" His smirk fades, "Anyway, cool - soup...erm, what kind?"

"Chicken, chicken soup for the soul"

Shawn forces another small smile.

"Well good then, 'Cause I think this soul needs a lot of it"

Mikey doesn't respond any further and there is an awkward kind of silence surrounding them for a moment.

"Yeah well, eventually it's gotta make you better" he states, giving Shawn a discomfited grin.

Shawn sits up straight. He notices a scar evidently engrained into Mikeys right leg, long and thin.

"Breakfast in bed, wow."

"Well, more like supper in bed... It's actually now about 3 O'clock, afternoon."

"Wow, man, I better go soon, people, people will get worried" Shawn states, his eyes shifting towards the soup and to Mikey and then the door.

"Oh yeah... I don't mean to be rude but who exactly will be worried? I'm not too sure that you could be talking of your dad"

Shawn glances away.

"No, no I'm talking about my best friend Cory and his family, they're good people...he doesn't know how good he's got it, but he always means well, I, I don't think I could have lasted this long without him..." he trails off. Mikey appears to be thinking.

"Well, I don't know how, how people do, they just do, I wish I'd had a friend when my dad was doing...ah well, anyway, it's, it's all in the past. People get on with their lives...they move on" he sighs and sends a small smile in Shawns direction.

"Well" he repeats "I hope you like your soup, erm, please feel free to stop round some time..." he stops again.

Shawn can sense he is battling with his words. He can see it in his eyes. He avoids eye contact, inhaling heavily – so he tries to change the subject.

"What, what happened to your leg?"

Mikey looks down at the lean white scar making its way from just below his kneecap down to just above his ankle. He looks back up and grins.

"Oh this. I used to have a dog when I was real young and I tried to walk him on my own, but I was too small and he tried to drag me through a wired fence. It wasn't very safe and a piece of snapped fencing dug into my leg and tore right down it. I was pretty young, so the cut was pretty deep, the fencing was actually stuck in my leg, and I was left with this dumb scar..." he smirks. "I'm sure you were expecting some big dark secret..."

"Yeah. Now why'd you have to go and disappoint me," he laughs. "I have to go soon really though..."

There is a slight moment of hesitation before Mikey speaks again.

"...Shawn, please don't go back to your father, he'll, he'll do it again, they always do it again...just go to the police, do something, anything. Just don't let him do to you... what my father did to me..." Mikey's voice cracks again.

Shawn too, struggles with his words. He knows Mikey means well, but he just can't go to the police. He has nothing and yet he has so much. Cory; Topanga; Cory's family; now Mikey...Of course material things he doesn't have... but he doesn't want to lose all these people and get caught up in the system. He shakes the thoughts from his disturbed mind.

"Mikey, thanks" he sighs "...thanks"

He can't say anything more. Just like before - this is all he can end with. He isn't very good with words. He's good at writing them down, but when it comes to telling people how he really feels, he just can't get it out right, so sometimes he just doesn't anything at all.

"Don't worry Mikey, I'll come back, I just need to, I just can't leave, I know you're just trying to help me out, but right now, I just, I need to go. Please don't call the cops or anything..."

Shawn finishes off his soup and then lifts himself up to leave, careful not to do himself any more damage.

"You really need stitches ya know..." Mikey comments as he holds open the bedroom door for him.

"It'll heal... in time."

"It'll probably get infected... it'll be painful for a long while..."

"I'll see you later" Shawn says, limping through the hallways. He reassures Mikey he'll be back...some time... and leaves.

------------------------

'He let you go...back to your father' the annoyingly cold voice inside him hisses gruffly.

'Shut up and fuck off...' he replies flatly. Mikey is a nice. He's a good person. A real big helping hand and someone that Shawn can trust. And that horrid voice of negativity, he realises it is wrong about everything... and it had taken Mikey to really show him that.

-------------------------

Well, what do ya think? Reviews are welcome, tell me how its going, and what you would want to read about more...and advise on plot holes would also be helpful...something like that anyway...cheers, hope you enjoyed this chapter...cya for now luv Cesca, xxx


	6. Chapter 5: Running into Doors

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

-------------------------Chapter 5: Running into Doors-------------------------

Shawn stares at the old broken down trailer sitting in the same place it has sat for the last fifteen years. He sighs. Well... Here goes nothing. He drags open the trailer door and takes a thorough look inside, anxious about whether to venture in or not. His dad isn't there. It's Friday. School. It's already 3:00pm. There'd definitely be no point in going to school now. He wouldn't have gone today anyway. There are too many visible cuts and bruises, too much pain and anguish to cover up, so he'll have to use the weekend to his advantage and try to recover in time for Monday morning. The bruise stretching across his cheek and eye will probably still be there by that time however. It looks like it's going to take at least a week to fade away completely. Maybe it won't look too visible by Monday. Hopefully.

The place still holds a foul stench of the once contents of his fathers stomach rotting in the corner, where his bed lies. He still has to get new sheets. Chet'll never do it. He swings around to the sound of the trailer door crashing into the wall. Thinking it's Chet he jumps back by reflex. It turns out just to be the wind. He'd left the door open and the wind had blown it up against the wall. He sighs. He better be less jumpy at school on Monday - someone may suspect something is wrong, but most people don't care or at least they are too busy with their own problems to notice his. Still, it can't hurt to imagine.

'All alone again.' the heartless voice states. 'All alone'

Shawn kicks at an old beer can lying upon the fuzzy torn up carpet beneath his feet.

"WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!" he screams at the top of his lungs, on the edge of crying and not caring if anyone is to hear him.

But no, he won't cry. He's sick of crying. What does crying ever do for him?He tries to regain control of his breathing. What would shouting do either?Nothing. It only makes him resemble his father more. For a moment he feels weak at the knees, but he won't let himself collapse, not again. He leans against the wall to steady himself and wipes away any sign of tears forming in his eyes, as he tries to clear his thoughts.

'But no... it doesn't always happen to me' he finds himself thinking, 'not just me' He stares up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

"It happened to Mikey as well," he croaks under his breath.

Then he drops to his knees and leans back against the wall again. He runs his fingers through his floppy brown hair and begins to wonder why he came back here in the first place. Maybe his father would just leave him alone for while. Maybe he was just trying scare him before about the whole rent boy thing. Maybe what he did was a one-time thing, a mistake, and it wouldn't happen again. He lets out a small laugh.

'Yeah right' he thinks, resting his head upon his knees and his arms wrapping loosely across his neck. 'And maybe pigs will learn to fly'.

'Exactly' says the hoarse voice.

'Pigs will learn to fly?' Shawn responds, trying not to take notice of it.

'...You said that last time. You said that when he started hitting you, when he started with the belt, when he wouldn't let you out of the trailer some days, it was never true, why be so pathetic that you'd think of it like this again...'

Shawn doesn't reply this time. This time the voice inside his head is right and so it proceeds to make him feel even more miserable, satisfied at the fact that he can't find the words to reply to him.

'As your so-called friend Mikey said, his father didn't stop... it just got worse and worse, and Shawnie, your father is following in the very same footsteps'

Shawn gulps. "Why do you torment me?" he says a loud.

But the voice is now gone, leaving behind it an eerie silence, which is soon shattered by the sound of Chet's pick up truck parking up outside. Snapping back to reality, Shawn dashes over to his desk and begins pretending to study. Maybe his father won't care about how long he's been gone, or that he's been gone at all. He has to stop with the 'maybe's'. The voice in his head is definitely right this time, however much he hates it. There was no point in hiding.

"Shawn, you best be here or else, if you aren't, Oh I'm going to get you, I'm gonna get you..." his father says as he flicks opens the trailer door, sounding as though even if Shawn really wasn't there he was trying to threaten him. He realises Shawn is there.

"Where you bin?" the question rolling off his tongue, hoarsely.

"I," he stops, trying to be careful not to stutter, "...went for some fresh air and I, had to think after what happened..." he tries to avoid the phrase, 'what you did to me'

"Oh really..." he snorts. "I'll, well, I will let you off this one time because it was the first time and you didn't know what to do with that head of yours... next time don't go off without my permission."

The 'first time'. The meaning of those two words sends chills down his spine.

"Yes Sir" Shawn replies quickly. "I'm sorry Sir"

Always say 'Sorry' and always say 'Sir' - it's one thing he had learnt a long time ago. Chet leaves again, getting back into his truck. He left. He didn't do anything. This was either a miracle or Chet has bigger things planned for him. He guesses that it isn't a miracle, despite the fact that he hadn't expected to make it out of there alive.

So the weekend passes and Shawn tries to get as much rest as possible. Chet hadn't come home since he'd left that Friday afternoon in his truck.

Examining his face in the small mirror above the sink, Shawn follows the purpley bruise slowly fading as it makes its way across his face.

"You walked into a door... now that is the lamest excuse ever" He can't believe people actually use that excuse. How do you find yourself constantly walking into doors. He can't even remember one time he'd walked into a door. You have to give them a believable story. You put on a fake smile, shoot some real bull with them, and they'll just eat it all up like children with candy. He practices somewhat in the mirror.

"Yes Mrs. Lancaster, Oh this. Well, I was playing Baseball with my dad... its a favourite sport of ours actually... he loves it, he played it a lot when he was a kid. Sorry, I'm going a little off track. Anyhow, as I was saying we were playing baseball and man, the ball just went flying so fast. I jumped for it, but' and as he says this he forces a laugh, "...but I jumped straight in front of it, and it smashed into my face...hurt like hell. It was pretty dumb really" he smirks, and clicks his fingers.

'Now that, that's an excuse.' he comments to himself. As long as he doesn't go too over the top, they should believe him, but walking into a door... What the hell is that all about...

Shawn realises he's been staring into the mirror practising this little speech of his for about a quarter of hour. School starts in ten minutes. He's going to be late. Again. He's been late a lot recently, which isn't too surprising, considering his circumstances.

He throws on the new clothes he'd gotten off of Mikey, wondering when he's going return them or even whether he has to. Had Mikey given them to him like a gift or lent them to him? He can't quite remember. He flings his bag over his shoulder, despite it not containing too much of anything and he dashes out of the door. It still damn well hurts to walk, never mind run, but he's been practising ways of getting over the pain. He can't hobble around school with being painfully obvious that he'd been fucked. He hates that word. It's true, but he hates it.

"WAIT!" he screams as the school bus heads on down the road, totally oblivious to his existence.

Mr. Feeny had said to him on an earlier occasion that "one more late equals a phone call to your father"

"No..." he groans.

He can't let that happen. He glances around frantically as though there would be another bus coming along. Another bus wouldn't come along for a half hour. He'll be late either by walking or taking the bus. Then he spots it by a small corner shop. He spots a small red and yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, near the door. It's his only chance.

Before he knows it, he's climbing onto the bike and beginning to cycle away, in the direction of school... he can hear screams from behind him to yelling for him to come back, but there's no way in hell he's going back there. He has to get to school or else.

"I'LL RETURN IT!" he shouts back, without turning his head.

When he realises what he's done, a greater feeling of terror strikes into him. The pain in between his legs is unbearable, but all he can think about is getting to school and avoiding punishment... from Mr. Feeny, but most of all from Chet. The world fuzzes by like a train wreck, dizzying and dashing side to side around him. The building distorted, and a sickness brings bile up his throat, burning the back of it.

It's a long journey. It drags. The pain drags on for a few miles, but he makes it there just about on time and is for once not late. He dumps the bike down an alley behind a huge trash can just across from the school and heads inside. He'll return it to where he'd found it later and then get the hell out of there.

"Hey, hey Shawn, what's up... where'd the bruise come from?"

It's Cory. His fuzzy dark hair sticks up in all directions, and he seems to have spilt something purple on his shirt.

"Oh yeah, well my dad and I were playing baseball and..."

-------------------------

Well, well... what do u people think? Should I carry on?

Cheers for the reviews so far btw...I'll thank ppl in person on my next chapter. Right now - it's one in the morning and I need sleep... Later people. Cesca, x


	7. Chapter 6: The Poacher in the Rye

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 6: The Poacher in the Rye -------------------------

"Hunter, why do you think Holden wants to save all the children in the rye?"

Mr. Turner notices Shawn sat at his desk, just staring into space.

"Shawn?" he calls.

"Huh?"

"Holden, Holden Caulfield, a character from a little book called the Catcher in the Rye" Mr. Turner Rose his eyebrows a little...

"The Catcher in the what?"

"The Catcher in the Rye...I'm sorry Mr. Hunter, I shouldn't expect you to know too much about it, I mean we've only been studying this book for the last 2 months"

"What kind of a math book gets named the Catcher in the Rye?" Shawn asks, of course knowing it isn't maths, but still loving every second of it. It's a little thing he and Mr. Turner have. It makes him kind of feel normal when he thinks about it.

Turner looks dumb struck for a moment and then he puts on one of his grins, as if to say: "oh you think you're real funny, don't you".

"Uhuh - and I'm sure calculations will get you very far in your exam on Tuesday" Turner points out.

"I'm Hoping so" Shawn replies with a smirk.

"I'm guessing you can't tell us all why Holden Caulfield wanted to save all the little children from jumping off the edge of that cliff then?"

Shawn sighs, and actually tries to think about the question. He hasn't even read the book, but somehow the question seems to get to him. He still doesn't have a clue what it is about; Why are these kids trying to jump off a cliff, unless they're being pushed… It must be a metaphor... So he thinks about why he would want to do that. Why?

"Innocence" he states, not sure if he'd said it aloud.

Turner was about to ask someone else the same question, but he turns and raises his eyebrows in Shawn's direction.

"What did you say?" he asks.

"Erm, nothing" Shawn mumbles, somewhat embarrassed at the attention he'd mustered up.

"No, no Hunter, you said innocence didn't you? Well done, that's a key word in this question, can you tell me why you said this?"

"Erm..." he doesn't know what to say. That had just come out; he doesn't have an explanation for it. He hasn't even read the darn book.

"Well, I was thinking sometimes people grow up to be really bad, but when they are like, little kids there more innocent and impressionable..." He didn't sound like himself. "...And maybe this guy thought, hey why do they have grow up and become these bad people, why can't they stay young and pure... Maybe he's afraid of growing up, and he doesn't want everyone else to, and that why he stays in the rye, and he tries to make sure everyone else does too... because he's afraid."

'Pure', he's no longer pure, no longer innocent... his father stripped him of this. That's why he said 'innocence', that is why felt some sort of resemblance to the question. That is why he can feel the beads of sweat forming down the sides of his face. That is why his voice begins to tremble at this realization.

"I...is that it now?" Shawn asks, wanting everyone to take their eyes off of him.

Turner's facial expression is one of stunned amazement. He's never seen something this intelligent, or at least serious come out of Shawn's mouth. It isn't rocket scientist stuff, but it's further than he'd thought Shawn can go. Well, he always believed Shawn was capable of more. He wasn't expecting it at this moment, and so... randomly. It's not the perfect answer to his question, but it's pretty damn close.

"Sure, right, erm yeah Shawn, yeah..." Turner replies, noting down the anxious look on Shawn's face.

"So Mark, what evidence can..." Mr. Turner turns his head away from Shawn and turns towards another pupil in the class.

Shawn sighs. What is he saying? Crap, he's just talking a load of crap.

Suddenly the bell goes rings out and buzzes around the classroom and everyone begins pouring out of there. Shawn waits until everyone has gone before getting up from his desk; Cory is at the door waiting for him. He feels so tired.

"Hunter, wait, can I see you for a moment...Cory you go on to your next class, I wont keep your best-friend long" Mr. Turner says.

Shawn feels this sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Cory looks back at him with raised eyebrows and then scratches his head and leaves.

"Sir?" Shawn squeaks.

"I was very impressed with what you said today, I just wonder why, when you can come out with this stuff, why you don't do any of the work or even listen?"

Shawn doesn't say anything.

"Did you read all of the book?" Mr. Turner asks.

"The Poacher in the Rye?"

"Are you kidding me?" Mr. Turner says in a high-pitched tone of voice.

"Yes" Shawn replies, trying not too sound too dumb, but going along with the whole 'it was a joke' thing. Then he remembers the actual title of the book.

"The Catcher in the Rye" he answers back.

"Yep, did you read it?" Mr. Turner enquires.

"Sort of" he lies. In truth he hasn't even opened the book, let alone read any of it.

"Ah, well, at least I'm getting through to you a little"

Shawn smiles. A fake smile, but nevertheless a smile.

"Can I go now Mr. Turner?" Shawn asks.

"Yeah..." he replies "...but one more thing Hunter"

Shawn stops, dreading the obvious. It's okay though, he tells himself, if he asks about the bruises I know what to say.

"Where'd you get that bruise?"

Bingo.

"Oh, this, I was playin' baseball with my dad, you now how things are, sometimes the ball just goes and hits you smack in the middle of the face, we put some ice on it straight, but here it is..." he touches the bruise on his cheek and forces another a fake smirk.

"Yeah, alright then Hunter, keep up the good work" he looks at Shawn oddly and shakes his head, "I never thought those words would come out of my mouth..."

Another smile. He guesses that was a little funny. He isn't in the mood to actually laugh though, not after the week he's had.

"See ya next Math lesson then Sir" Shawn mutters as he walks out of the door and carries on down the corridor.

It was a pretty dumb thing to say really - seeing as math was his next lesson. There are papers scattered across the floor, and the school bin seems to have been pushed over. The rubbish is snaking out of it and onto the ground. Shawn finds himself returning the bike he'd left behind the alley to the corner shop he had stolen it near. He drags it in through the door and shouts: "Hey this bike belongs to the women I stole it from this morning!" He hides his face and shoots out the door before anyone can run after him. It's a stupid thing to do. He could have easily gotten caught, especially since he can only jog, and not even run due his injuries. He speeds off down the road as fast as he can go. It hurts but he can't afford to slow down. He's definitely not going to late tomorrow.

After a short while he gets a little short of breath and stops running and finding himself at a fence he leans on it for support. It hurt like hell to move his legs so fast, but he seems to have been able to do it. He lets himself drop to the ground and just sit for a while. He can still feel it inside him. The shame he feels is overwhelming. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach. It's been about three days since he was raped and he can still feel it writhing inside of him. Shawn lets his head lean over his knees, covering it with his arms, trying to block out the memories. They just won't go away though. They'd never go away. Then he hears footsteps ascending toward him. There are a few of them all at once.

"Hey kid!" an unfamiliar voice says hoarsely.

Shawn begins to lift his head. A hard smack to the face, by an unknown attackers fist knocks him back into the fence. He then falls right down onto his stomach and lies there staring at the concrete ground beneath him. He's too damn depressed and weak to be bothered defending himself.

"Please God, just end me" he whispers, half serious and half not.

"You stole my sisters bike you dumb trailer trash fuck!" the mustard blonde haired man states viciously.

Shawn exhales painfully. "...So what are ya gonna do... take me to a police station, or beat the crap out of me, either way, get it over and done with" he states flatly.

He really doesn't care anymore. He'd actually rather get the crap beaten out of him. The police would get him in trouble with Chet, and he can't be assed with that. He kind of knows this guy won't go to the police with him anyway. In fact it's pretty obvious he won't because if he was intending on doing that he wouldn't have just hit him.

"Yeah" the guy mumbles, unsure of how to answer to him.

There are about three other men standing around the scene before them. Most likely his friends, they all look about nineteen. In they're matching coloured t-shirts and they're tight denim jeans. He tries not to make eye contact with the man in front of him. He's scared that the shame he feels will reflect in his eyes. He stands limply in their arms. Not even struggling.

"How old are you?"

He's sick of that question. Everyone always wants to know how old you are.

"What does it matter?" he mumbles.

With that the teenager backhands him across the face. He doesn't feel threatened by this hotheaded bastard. His nose and mouth feel dry, and his eyes sleepy.

"I asked you a question, give me an answer... NOW!" the guy screams in his face. Only the ringing in his ears makes it sound more like a loud whisper.

"Fourteen" he squeaks, giving in.

What's the point in making them angrier? Then the beating will just take longer.

"What happened to your face, you steal someone else's bike?" he sniggers.

"I returned it" Shawn mutters quietly.

The guy laughs."I asked you a question," he states again.

Shawn thinks about this. That was an actual question; he thought it was meant to be rhetorical. He still feels a little dizzy from the first hit. He doesn't reply. He would take a million beatings before he'd breathe a word of why his face was so bruised and beaten.

"His dad probably gave it too him, trailer park shit" one of the boys holding him says.

Shawn hangs his head low. He wants to punch out, but he really can't bring himself to find the strength to. And after all there are about five nineteen year olds and he's just a fourteen-year-old boy.

"Is that it, trailer boy, daddy likes to beat ya?" The teenager says even more sadistically than he had with the first comment.

"Go fuck yourself" Shawn states, holding in the tears of shame and finding the strength to fight back. He can't just let them go on like this any more. He throws a punch at one of the boys holding him and his fist smacks right off of the boys nose, blood quickly running out of it.

He kicks, punches, and lashes out, anything to get them off him. He almost succeeds as well, loosening their grip on him. Only the others gather around closer and begin to pounce.

"Let me go!" Shawn screams.

He can feel blows coming at him from every direction. In the end, he's on the ground once again, curled up in a fatal position. He wrapped his arms over his head protecting his face, and pulls his knees up to his stomach. Although he lies helplessly on the floor, the leader of the gang carries on kicking at him.

"STOP!" He screams over and over again, until the only thing he can squeeze out is a small whisper.

After about 20 seconds the gang leader stops kicking at Shawn and they all back off. Shawn feels like he is fading in and out of consciousness. There they are. Just staring at him lying there. He lets out a few groans of pain and tries to check over his injuries in his head. Well thankfully nothing feels broken. But he'll have serious bruising. His head hurts, but his face seems all right, except for where that bastard had struck him. The gang all seem somewhat shocked and nervous. Shawn knows they hadn't intended to take it this far. They're obviously scared in case he has serious injuries or even dies. In case they'd get in real trouble for really beating up a fourteen-year-old boy.

Shawn listens to their running footsteps descending further and further away... 'Uhuh, The Catcher in the Rye', Shawn thinks to himself, 'Why couldn't someone have been there to stop me falling off a cliff...?'

------------------------- I am going to write more of this chap. I have just had my first English exam and half term is here, so I wont have another one for about a week and a half or so, so I will be able to write more chaps! Yay, well for you...I'd like to say thank you so much for all the reviews, they were all very positive and great inspiration! Though feel free to give me negative reviews if you feel something isn't right or there are many mistakes and whatnot ...I will update soon!

Special thanx to all those reviewers who just kept on reviewing...

sunrise19, blondenbeautiful, AEM1, Jalen I, Mariah, anon...and thanx to all the others who reviewed my story.

Oh and p.s. R&R this chapter if ye like. : )

Oh and one more thing, to answer your questions:

Yes I'm going to write more about the other members of the BMW cast in there

Nope, Mikey isn't from the show, I made him up... No I'm not gonna take the easy way out, and have Cory just find out about Shawn, and everyone live happily ever after, not to say there wont be a happy ending, but who knows. Also how happy could ya be when you've been abused like Shawn has in this story. Yes Chet will get what's coming to him, but I don't want to give anything away...

Oh and next time I have to write the name 'Topanga', I'll write it like this, correctly spelt, (sorry, lol)

And lastly Mikey will stay a good person, but anyway, yer, that's about it I think...

Tell me what you think of this chap, cya ppl, Cesca, xxx


	8. Chapter 7: Cat and Mouse

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 7: Cat and Mouse -------------------------

Shawn stumbles along the road. Every muscle in his body aches like hell. By the time he reaches the trailer park, he can barely find the strength to stand. He freezes when he notices his dads' pickup truck resting in its place outside their trailer. He staggers over to the trailer doorway and is about to argue with himself as to whether to go in or to make a run back to Mikeys house and get all cleaned up again. Mikey. The clothes he's wearing are Mikeys and now they're all wrecked and torn. He can't go back there, asking for more, after wrecking what Mikey has already given him. Then Mikeys soothing voice echoes in his mind. "I don't care about the couch... I don't care about the clothes..."

Shawn suddenly hears more than one voice coming from within the trailer home. Chet seems to be having a conversation someone. A man. About the same age as him. Shawn can't quite understand what they're talking about, but then he hears his name mentioned and his heart stops.

"Shawn" Chet says. "Yes, he's young, and mostly untouched... he's fourteen, you'll see, he's a good fuck, I should know, I tested him out..." he laughs. They both laugh. He can't believe his ears. He can't believe this is happening. He stares into his trailer through a crack in the door. The man is actually somewhat older than Chet, and looks to be in his sixties. He wears casual jeans and a crisp white shirt. Now he knows what the other man is doing there. Especially when a small amount of money is exchanged.

"You'll get the rest, when our client pays up"

"He should be home any minute now" Chet says smugly.

Shawn backs away from the trailer door in shock and fear. He doesn't watch where he's going and trips over some kind of bucket that's lying on the ground about a metre away from him. He falls into the side of another trailer with a small bump. But a big enough bump for Chet and the man he's talking with to hear. He tries to scramble to his feet before they get out of the trailer and see him.

It's too late though. There they are, standing at the door of the trailer staring at him. Petrified of both men, Shawn tries to make a run for it, but he ends up half staggering, half dragging himself along. 'Please' he tells himself. 'For once, legs work, work damn you'. Only his legs don't do what he tells them to and now he is trapped inside the trailer - the two men still staring at him.

"Why's he so a mess?" The stranger asks.

"I don't know" Chet replies.

Their words are like the words of two characters from a crime show. Its like they aren't actually there. The man directs a suspicious glare Chets way. He doesn't believe him.

"Sure you don't Chet" he comments.

"No, I swear, I admit, yes, I would beat the crap out of him, willingly, but someone else got to him this time"

Shawn tries to shut it all off. After all he'll be having to do a lot of that from now on. "Okay, why don't we ask Shawn" the stranger says. "Shawn?"

Shawn doesn't reply. He is too far gone. He can't hear them any more.

"Shawn?" Chet screams, "Answer the man!"

He slaps him across the face, but Shawn doesn't even comply. He's on the edge of consciousness. All he can hear are the echoes of Mikeys voice in his head, and how he is right, and how he is going to pay for leaving him.

"Slapping him wont do any good, plus the goods are already damaged, you wanna make any money, then you're gonna have to learn not to beat on him so much."

Shawn laughs inside. This man is his only protection. And the protection is only there so he can be made money out of and look good for all the perves out there.

"Shawn, can you hear me? We're not gonna hurt you"

"No" he mumbles, "You're not, but some pervert will"

The stranger laughs. Shawn doesn't see what was so funny about his statement.

"Listen kid, was it your dad who did this to you or what?"

"Now listen, I just told ya..." Chet interrupts.

The strange man sends Chet a look that shuts him up almost instantaneously. Shawn figures anyone who could do this to children for a living must be a very dangerous person.

"Who did this to you?"

Shawn doesn't want to answer, but he wants to get this over with.

"A gang" he mutters.

"Which gang?"

"I don't know"

"Ah well, how old were they? How many?"

"About nineteen, twenty"

"How many?"

"Five I think,"

"Why do you think they did it?"

"I don't know" he lies. "They were calling me trailer trash, they were all over me..."

"Must've been scary?"

"Not really - there are scarier things" Shawn states quietly, glaring at his father.

"Well..." the stranger starts, only Shawn interrupts.

"Listen, I'm not gonna be a rent boy, I'll go to the police!"

The man looks shocked, but smugly brushes it off.

"Shawn, no ones asking you if you want to be a 'rent boy', your father needs the money and you're going to help him get it..."

"You can't make me," Shawn protests, even though he knows full well they can.

"I can see why you had to beat the boy, Chet" the stranger remarks.

Shawn stares at the ground wishing himself away.

"Well Chet, it's been a pleasure, I'm sure, but the boys much too broken right now, we'll have to reschedule for a different client" The man says, as though Shawn is not even there and this is some big official thing, like clients going to see a Doctor of some sort.

The man stares at Chet for a few moments. Chet stands dumb struck and then pulls the small wad of notes from his pocket and hands it back over to him. He turns to leave, but stops.

"Oh and Chet, I wouldn't let that boy out my sight if I were you - he seems quite... rebellious"

Shawn laughs inside again. Of course he's rebellious because he doesn't want to spend his life being raped. He admits he can be quite rebellious in school however, but this is completely different. The strange man had now left.

"Sir..." Shawn starts as his father approaches.

"Did I say you could speak?"

Shawn closes his mouth and looks towards the door, wondering whether he should really make a run for it. He then remembers how useless he was before as he tried to get away, and so decides against the idea.

"You're lucky I can't beat ya, you deserve it, although it looks like you already got what you deserved..." Chet mumbles grumpily.

"...Now get on with my tea, and clean all this mess up, I don't wanna hear a single word from you either."

Shawn sighs. He has to get away. Even being put into the foster care system and seeing Cory every once in a while would be better than living as a male prostitute. As soon as he leaves for school tomorrow he can go straight to the police.

"Oh and Shawn, you're not going to school tomorrow, lookin' like the shit you are" Chet remarks. "You're not going to school until every bruise on that body of yours has faded."

"But sir, wont people get suspicious"

"Suspicious of what?" Chet questions smugly.

"Of everything..."

"I'll phone your teacher, tell them you got badly beat up by some kind of gang – its only the truth so they'll understand, I didn't do anything wrong... Hey, and when that friend of yours, Corky, or what ever his name is comes around here lookin' for ya, you can tell him where to go"

Chet finally turns around and heads towards his bed. Shawn knows his father isn't keeping him from school just to avoid suspicion or let him rest. He's scared. Chet is keeping him here as a prisoner, a prisoner awaiting his execution or as in Shawn's case prostitution. He gulps. He isn't going to get out of this alive, that's one thing he's sure of.

-------------------------

2:05pm, Friday 20th May 1994.

------------------------- Shawn wakes. He had been sleeping on the family couch. Family - This is no family. What kind of family would do this to him? Days had passed. Chet had hardly left the trailer. When he did it was dead in the middle of the night when Shawn was asleep, although he usually wasn't asleep, just afraid to move in case his father caught him at it.

The bruises stretching across his body have worsened and grown darker instead of beginning to fade. It will probably be at least a week and a half before they'll fully fade, probably some days longer as well.

"How ya feelin' boy?"

Chet comes in through the trailer door. Shawn hadn't even known he'd been gone.

"Okay I guess" he lies as he adds "Sir" to the end of his answer.

"Can you run?" Chet asks.

"I don't know"

"Run then"

"What?"

"I said run. Whats wrong with ya? Ya get hit too hard on that head of yours...Cat and mouse... I'm the cat and what are you?"

Shawn gulps, "The mouse"

Chet lunges forwards and Shawn jumps, falling off of the couch.

Chet laughs hard while he stumbles to his feet and tries to run for the door. It's a painful action and he grits his teeth as he drags himself along.

"What are you doing?" Chet almost screams.

"Ya...you said run"

Chet laughs again. "Yeah, yer I did, didn't I? Go on then – Run."

Shawn doesn't know whether he should run or not - either way he'll probably get in trouble, but he finds himself outside, running. He can hear the thuds of Chets treads upon the muddied ground behind him getting louder and louder, closer and closer. He is out of the trailer park now. Maybe he can make it to Cory's house. Maybe he can make it... He knows he's dreaming, but it doesn't stop him hoping. Of course as soon as that hope begins to emerge he feels his fathers hand grip his shoulder and jerk him back into reality.

"Not so ill anymore are you?"

And this is the reality. Shawn holds back the tears. He knows what his father wanted. He knows why he'd wanted him to run. He had been struggling with his newfound knowledge that Chet can't hurt him for the last few days, but it didn't matter to him no more anyway. Any chance that he can escape is better than nothing, and he wishes he'd taken every chance available.

He didn't escape though and he's back at the trailer, tied to a chair so he can't run away and his father, Chet, is on the phone to someone, talking about him. So he's thinking, 'this is it - the end of my life.' Whether he ever had a life in the first place is something to be questioned. He hasn't blinked in minutes; He's forgotten how to. He's forgotten how to react. Then he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, son, you better do me proud, or you know what's going to happen"

But he doesn't know what's going to happen... because what could be worse than what he is about to be forced into?

-------------------------


	9. Chapter 8: Rent Boy

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 8: Rent boy -------------------------

The walls are all black and white. There are no windows and nowhere to escape to. The ground has a cold stony surface, but a mattress and bedding lye shoved to side of the room. He doesn't know where he is. Chet dragged him into the back of the truck, pleading and crying and... begging. He felt pathetic for begging, but he was so damn scared of where Chet was taking him that he wasn't too bothered at the time. He's still shit scared now, even more so than he was before. The journey hadn't been that long, only twenty minutes or so. Chet had blind folded Shawn so that he couldn't see where they were going. Like he'd come back anyway, but obviously it's a safety precaution in case he goes to the police.

A bright light radiating from the ceiling stings his eyes. He begins to shake. It's cold in there, but mostly because he's been stripped down to his boxer shorts. He hugs his knees to his chest, waiting for some kind of heat to overcome the chills running up and down his spine. He figures they aren't just because of the cold. He shivers like crazy.

"If they ask you how old you are, say, say...how ever old you want me to be," Chet had told him. He'd also given him other such advice about what to say and what not to say. Through most of it, Shawn wasn't listening. Like he was going to talk dirty with some damn pervert. Like he was going to talk dirty with anyone.

His thoughts get distracted as the door creaks open. A strange man, much younger than the other stranger he had met the other day and probably around his late twenties, walks into the room. A odd, yet amused look is plastered all over his face. He locks the door behind him. The man stares at him. He looks like he's circling him. He smiles, and another chill travels down Shawn's spine.

He opens his mouth to say something. Only nothing comes out. He doesn't know what to say, anything he says wont get him out of this mess. He makes a load of crap up anyway 'cause he's scared shitless.

"I, I can get you money, more money than what you paid my dad. I'm not really a rent boy, I'm not..."

The man interrupts him.

"If you had that much money you wouldn't be here," he says flatly. "Anyway, I have plenty of money, I didn't come here for more"

Shawn begins to cry. He feels pathetic again, but he's so scared he doesn't know how to control himself. "Please, don't do this, I swear, I'm not any good anyway..." he sobs

"Oh but you look good to me" he states eerily.

"Oh god, oh, god, please, god..." he's shaking even more now.

"I wouldn't have thought someone like yourself would believe in a god..."

Shawn uses all his strength to stop himself crying and dares to look up at the stranger. The man ruffles his dirty blonde hair with one hand and loosens his belt with the other as he smiles at Shawn. He walks closer to him.

"Why do you fear what you know you can never stop...you might as well accept it, it wont kill you...usually..."

Shawn tries to reply again, but the words get stuck in his throat and the only sound that makes its way out of his voice box is a small high pitched 'goa...' noise.

The man approaches him further, getting even closer towards him. His face is right in front of him now and he stares, until he makes contact with his eyes. Shawn looks away from him.

"This... this is an illegal business, I, I ca...can go to the police," he stutters, his breathing getting heavier.

"Obviously. But you know what? All the best businesses are." the man smirks.

He reaches out and attempts to stroke Shawn along the side of his face, but Shawn ducks and drags himself to the other side of the room.

"Oh, god, oh god, god" he repeats over and over again. "Why's, why's it so damn cold in here?" he says, tying to avoid any touching.

"Oh, my dear, it's cold...so I can warm you up"

He begins to sob again. The grave voice in his head saying 'Fight him you dumbass! Fight him for fks sake... you must want this or something... You must do, because otherwise you'd be kicking his ass right now...'

"Why are you doing this to me? Why?" he cries.

The man smirks again. "Cause your just so damn beautiful, I wanna take you home with me..."

Shawn squeezes his eyes shut. He tightens his hands over his ears. He isn't going to listen to this. He isn't going to even look at his man. He can hear his faint voice behind those hands of his. He doesn't want to make sense of it all; he just wants to be somewhere else. He feels the man's arm slip around his shoulder. He shakes violently in his arms, waiting for it to be over.

One of his arms is torn away from his ear.

"This just makes you sexier" the man whispers in his ear.

Shawn won't open his eyes. He can't. What has he ever done to deserve this? Sure, he isn't the best of students, but how can he deserve this? He makes sure to keep his eyes tightly shut as the man begins to run his fingers all over his aching body. He feels himself tightening even more with every touch and he can't hold back the sobs any longer. He'd always thought that eventually you could run out of tears, but tonight he can't.

He can now feel the man kissing his back and arms... and then his neck.

"Why so tense?" he teases, "Open those pretty eyes of yours"

Shawn refuses to.

"Bruises don't look good on you," he whispers in his ear once more. "I had an uncle that liked to beat me, I know how that feels. When my dad came back from fighting, he soon sorted him out though..."

Shawn is hardly listening.

"Why are you doing this to me then, if you know what it feels like" Shawn says in between sobs.

"Oh, I wouldn't beat you, I'm just having fun, I paid good money for you. I want my moneys worth."

"How, how much did you pay?" he stutters again.

"A lot, and we got the whole night together, so you have to run out of tears at some point...by the way, my name is Freddie" and with that he lowers his hand down Shawn's thigh.

Shawn jumps away again. He doesn't know how long he can keep this up for. Maybe he can waste a lot of time, and then he won't have to suffer as much.

"I won't call you anything, you don't deserve that, you're a pervert, that's all, a sick pervert," he almost screams it.

"See now, I told you those tears would run out some time."

He wears a fake smile. It's one of those smiles that look sincere at first glance, but if you look at him for any longer you know there's something not right lurking behind those eyes of his. Even his smile is crooked, but if he can give a sincere smile, anyone can.

Shawn exhaled heavily again. "Why? Why me? Why..." he mumbles, not really talking to anyone. All he can do is question this over and over again. "Oh god, why?"

"There is no god, what kind of god would put you through this?"

That kind of makes sense, but this man is just trying to get to him. He isn't a particularly religious person, but he has to have something to look forward to, something better than this. Then again, how can god let him into heaven after he's let himself get fucked by some guy? No, he isn't letting himself... It's rape. He always thinks he can get away though. He never really knew it until it hit him.

Freddie sits beside him once more. He's waiting for the right moment to pounce. Tired, Shawn lets his guard down. He can't get out, and the tension is killing him already. His head feels as though it is going to explode.

"Please, stop talking, just get it over and done with"

The strange man, supposedly named Freddie, smiles. That eerie smile again.

"There now, see - I knew you'd come around eventually..."

He rubs the back of Shawn's shoulders.

"Shh, it's all right now" he whispers.

Shawn knows it isn't all right; nothing is ever going to be all right again, nothing. He doesn't do anything. There's no point. There's no point in trying to avoid it any longer. It's going to happen sooner or later. He feels the man's hands wandering all over his body. Gently touching him, prodding... He shakes ever the more harder with every touch.

"Shhh, baby" he keeps cooing.

He feels like a girl. He feels embarrassingly like a girl. The man's hands eventually reach the place Shawn was dreading and he softly cries when they do. Freddie continues to whisper and touch him, and he continues to cry. The man was wrong. His tears hadn't run out.

When he stops touching, it's clear what he's thinking about doing. He carries his limp body over to the mattress and begins to say in a soft voice, "It won't hurt that much, just think about the pleasure of it..."

Only when he does finally finish with him there is no pleasure for Shawn. Just pain, one of the worst pains he's ever experienced. He's thankful for receiving no pleasure. That would only make him feel dirtier, but it hurt like hell. It hurt worse than when Chet did it to him. Maybe because he didn't pass out, or maybe because it was the second time, but when the first fuck was over with, he could feel the blood leaking out of him, like he were a tap that had just been turned on, and Freddie was the vampire waiting for the blood to run and it does run, but Shawn can't.

He remembers Freddie's words 'We've got all night'; he'd only been there for about two hours. Freddie starts talking to him again. He won't answer though. Even if he tried he won't be able to, because his words would become stuck in his throat, and all that would come out would be another sob.

"I'm sorry your dad beats you" Freddie says.

"This..." Shawn tries to force more words out, but he can only let the one word "this", which he would have continued with '...is worse than any of my Dads fking beatings you dumb bastard', just hang in the air.

Shawn stares down at the ground. He decides to open his eyes. He doesn't know why.

"You don't know me though, it's scarier when the person you are most afraid of, is the person you live with, the person who knows you"

That is wrong. Shawn is now more scared of this man than his father, but he won't ever admit to it.

"You're good at this job Shawn, you could make a lot of money"

Shawn rolls his eyes and stiffens. He tries to rid himself of the lump in his throat. It's hard.

"Yeah..." he starts, "Yer right"

"No really, I'd pay you double what I paid your dad"

Shawn finally works up the courage to speak. "Hey, look man, once I get out of here, I'm running away, I'm never coming back, ya hear me? I wont be this. I wont be someone's little rent boy..."

There's a short upsettingly uncomfortable silence.

"Sad to hear it, you're so good at it, I mean, you'd probably get enough money to find your own place, get away from you're dad, but hey if you wanna live on the street, cold and hungry, that's your choice..."

"I'm 14 years old... and I'm already cold and hungry" Shawn spits.

"Hey, I'm just saying people like me would pay you a load for one night - you're just too adorable"

"Yeah well... too bad, they're gonna have to miss out on me"

"Your choice mate, but as I said, you'll just end up another dead kid lying in the street...you can make real money, you can even find a place of your own...I know a few guys..."

"Pff..." shawn mutters, "Lies, all lies" he remarks.

"Hm. Maybe you're just more interesting now, 'cause you haven't been broken in yet, there's still some spirit left in you. By the way they're not lies. You haven't seen the rent boys on the streets of Cornby at night. You haven't seen the clothes they wear. They have fun with it. They get a load of cash..."

"Well I obviously don't enjoy it, it's the worse thing that's ever happened to me, and I certainly don't want it to become a job...what the hell..." Shawn holds back more tears.

"Go on, get it over with, you're wasting your precious time... after this none of you bastards will ever see me again..."

He shuts up and before he knows it Freddie is back up against him, and touching him.

"Calm down" he coos again.

Shawn sighs. 'Why can't he just die, and be rid of this hell?'

Minutes pass by like hours, and everything feels like it is never going to end. Freddie assaults him in every sexual way someone can, over and over again and he just lies there and takes it, a limp body - he tries to wish himself away. It never works though. There is too much pain everywhere. Everything hurts. It hurts to move. It hurts to speak. It even hurts to think. It definitely hurts to think.

He doesn't even know what time it is. He'd been dragged from the trailer at about 4:30 in the afternoon, and had arrived at about 5. He'd avoided anything for at least a half hour and he wasn't sure how long had gone by since Freddie started on him, but it was probably about half nine. How long is all night supposed to mean?

Shawn lies limp on the cold stony floor. He hasn't enough strength to walk. He hasn't enough strength to even sit up right. So he definitely doesn't have enough strength to fight back. He just lies there sleepily, waiting for the darkness to overcome him.

Freddie keeps coming back for more. Shawn can't feel anything anymore. He can't even cry. He can only lye there and take it like he did with Chet. Except this time he doesn't have the power to run afterwards.

When it's all finally over. He can feel Freddie slipping his boxer shorts back up around his waist. And the slight clanging of his belt as he gets dressed.

"Hey kid" he hears him whisper one last time. "Call me if you ever need any doe", and with that he feels something small being slipped half way into his boxer shorts, his eyes are shut and he hasn't enough strength to keep them open. He feels Chet's arms pick his limp body up and carry him away. That's the first time he's ever been glad for Chet being there, to take him away from it all. Finally sleep gives him a tiny ounce of mercy...

-------------------------


	10. Chapter 9: Corky

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 9: Corky -------------------------

Shawn's eyes flutter open tiredly. His brain feels as though it is banging against his skull. He is in a bed, clean white sheets covering him. When his eyes adjust to his surroundings he realises he is back at the trailer, in his own bed. He remembers his father had thrown up in the bed, and begins to ready himself to jump out of it. Only he still doesn't have much strength and it seems that the sheets have been cleaned or are brand new.

He shudders as the memories of that black and white room come back to him and what happened in there, behind that locked door; With only him and Freddie. He sniffs, but does not cry. He's done enough crying. It never seems to help anyway. "That just makes you more sexier" Freddie had said. So crying definitely doesn't help. In fact it probably makes things worse. His thoughts are interrupted by his Chets voice - coming from the trailer doorway.

"...can't come out, he's been hurt and he doesn't want to see anyone, so can you leave now, Corky."

Cory is here. His best friend is just a few metres away.

"NO!" he hears himself yell.

He wishes he hadn't spoken. He's really weak. His father can do anything he wants to him. Only he so badly wants to see a friendly face. Not his fathers or a pervert. It's kind of an accident that he'd actually spoken.

"Shawn?" he hears Cory's voice.

"I'm here" he replies.

Cory appears at the doorway of his small room. He must have pushed past Chet. Chet is an angry and manipulative bastard, but he won't touch a hair on another kid's head. He knows better than that. That's why he takes it all out on Shawn. He disappears from the trailer. He probably went out in his truck. He knows Shawn won't tell Cory what'd really happened.

Cory appeared quite shocked at Shawn's appearance.

"What, what happened?"

"Oh" Shawn replies, "this...I well, I got beat up...quite badly..."

"I can see that" Cory replies, his expression troubled.

Shawn sighs and opens his mouth to ask him how he's been, but he feels like his voice is going to crack so he decides against that idea.

"Shawn, are you crying?" Cory steps closer.

Shawn's eyes shift from one side of the room to the other, trying to focus on something else. Trying not to think about his life and what'd happened to him in the past few weeks.

"N...o..." this time his voice cracks.

He covers his face with his hands and tries to make himself stay silent.

"Shawn, I think you really need to see a doctor" Cory states.

He comes right up to Shawn's face and pulls his hands away.

"I know you Shawnie, and I know that something really bad has happened, and you need to tell someone - I can see it in your eyes, you look like something terrible has happened..."

"Oh, Cor, you...you think you know me, you know the funny, cheerful, dumb-ass me, you don't know the real me, you think you know, but you really don't" Shawn sniffs and looks into Cory's eyes. "You're the best friend I've ever had...you're the only friend I've ever had...and I don't ever want you to really know me, I don't think you could handle the truth"

"No, Shawnie, don't talk like that, you can tell me anything..."

"Stop calling me Shawnie, like everything's alright, it'll never be alright" he sobs.

Cory stares at Shawn. What has he missed?

"I'm sorry" Cory begins. "I really am, I'm sorry I wasn't here for you when you were in so much pain, but I'm here now, please Shawn, you're my best friend too, I don't like it that you're like this..."

"You don't like it that I'm like this" Shawn says, getting the wrong impression of what Cory was saying. "Well, this is the way I am and if you don't like it you can get out..." He doesn't mean to sound so cruel, but he's angry, and he doesn't want Cory getting any closer to the truth.

"...I, I didn't mean it that way, I meant for your sake, it's not good being all upset, I just meant I didn't like seeing you having to be all upset..."

"Yeah, whatever" Shawn replies flatly. This isn't going the way he had hoped.

Cory bites down on his bottom lip and fidgets with his hands. He's never seen Shawn this emotionally unstable. Something has to be really wrong.

"Look, Cory, I'm sorry..." he breathes in, and rubs at his nose. "I'm sorry for getting at you, but...I think you should just go, as... as you can see, I'm, I'm not myself today, I'll be alright..."

Cory gives Shawn a doubtful gaze.

"I mean it" Shawn states reassuringly.

"But, I can't just leave when you're like this, and, and what was that thing about me not knowing the real you, tell me what the real you is then, don't push me away..."

"Cory, please..." Shawn pleads with his eyes.

Cory looks as though he is about to say something but he just turns around. He hesitates a few times. Trying to force himself to go back there, but it's obvious he's just making Shawn angrier and angrier and he doesn't want Shawn to be angry at him. He doesn't know what to do. Maybe he just needs to cool down, then he'll tell him what's really bothering him, apart from being beaten up. He feels terribly bad for leaving like that. He waits around at the trailer door for a little while. He never goes back in though.

Meanwhile Shawn pulls the sheets over his head and tries to fall asleep again. He just wants to escape from everything and everyone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"...Ya hear me?"

Shawn yawns and opens his eyes again.

"Hello?"

"Wha...What?" Shawn mumbles.

He suddenly feels something heavy slam down onto his stomach. It's one of his textbooks from school. There's still bad bruising around that area and his skin burns from every one of Freddie's touches.

"When I ask ya somethin' you answer" Chet goes on.

"Yeah, yes sir" Shawn replies. "I just wasn't awake Sir"

"Yer well, you are now. What'd you say to that corky kid? You didn't tell him anythin' funny did ya?" Chet says threateningly.

"Of course not, and his name is Cory, not Corky" Shawn replied daring to correct Chet.

"Are you undermining me?"

"No, sir, I'm just being truthful, you always tell me to be truthful"

"Ah, yer, I guess I do"

Shawn lets out a small sigh without making it very evident. The world hadn't known it, but he'd just daringly escaped a huge trap.

"When..." Shawn starts, "...when will I be going back to school?"

Chet snorts. "Erm, next week should do it, those bruises should be almost gone by then, it'll be what 2 weeks by then anyway, I guess you'll just have to make something up about why you're walkin' funny though" Chet laughs to himself.

Shawn feels the shame explode from the pit of his stomach. He pinches himself in an attempt to get rid of it. He hopes he'll make it through his school days, but at same time he figures – does he really want to?

-------------------------


	11. Chapter 10: Stare

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 10: Stare -------------------------

Shawn stumbles through the school hallways. He'll probably be let off for being late seeing as everyone now knew he'd been beaten up and all. The hallways are mostly empty, with the exception of Harley and his gang who sit around near the bins at they're usual spot. He figures for a moment that they might come over and make trouble with him. Only they just stare at him as he trudges past them.

Eventually he finds his first period class. History. With Mr. Feeney. Feeney always has an eye for things. He can usually tell when something is really wrong. He's always treated Shawn a little different from the other kids who get thrown into his office. As if he knew something. He can't know what'd happened to him now or he'd have done something straight away. At least Shawn figures he would. A part of him wants to be found out. A part of him wants to be taken away from all this, but another part of him wants to stay with Cory and his family; this school, wants his secrets to stay secret.

"Ah, Shawn Hunter, so nice of you to join us" Mr. Feeney says as he enters the classroom.

"Sorry I'm late Mr. Feeney" he replies and drags himself towards his seat.

It's near the back, just in front of Cory. He can see Cory's wide eyes and concerned expression as he approaches his seat. He feels like everyone is staring at him. They probably are, but he feels like they know the truth. Like they can see deep inside his soul and drag out those memories for the world to see.

"Shawn" Cory whispers once Mr. Feeney has begun teaching again. "Are you okay?"

Shawn nods. He hates that question. Is anyone ever really just okay?

"I came round to see you again, but you're dad came out and locked the door, he told me to go away...he said you were resting, why is your dad being so weird?"

'Great now Cory is suspicious of Dad...' Shawn thinks to himself. '...Just what I need'.

"Erm, he's well, he's been finding it rough, with work an' all, ya know how it is" Shawn lies.

Only it isn't a lie. Not really. His dad must have trouble with work; after all he's making Shawn do it all.

"Oh, right" Cory mumbles.

He isn't sure if what Shawn is telling him is true, but he can't just say: 'are you lying?'

Shawn and Cory stay mostly quiet through out the rest of the lesson. Cory doesn't know what to say to Shawn any more and Shawn knows he wouldn't know what to say back anyway.

The bell goes off and as usual the other students scramble out of the classroom and into the hallways with their constant nattering and heavy footsteps. As they're talking gets louder and louder it begins to anger Shawn off. He wishes it weren't so loud. Like everything around him ignores him and he starts to feel lonelier than ever. Only when it is quiet he wishes it were loud again, because he feels like all eyes are on him and everyone knows his dirty little secret. He doesn't know what he wants any more.

Him and Cory head out of the door and down the corridor. It's still crowded and loud. He begins to turn his head towards Cory when he catches sight of a girl who looks to be about his age. Her hair is light shade of blonde and her eyes a dark hazel colour. She's staring down at her shoes as she walks, so much so that she almost bumps into someone, and as she does she apologises meekly and continues up the corridor toward him.

"Shawn..."

Shawn watches her turn around and go down another corridor. He doesn't know why, but he has a weird vibe, almost like goose bumps. Like this girl is more than just a girl walking down a corridor.

"Shawn?"

He doesn't even blink. He just stares... why does this girl make him so nervous?

"Shawn, hello, anyone in there?"

He finally blinks away these thoughts and turns to Cory.

"Yeah, wha...what's wrong?"

"Well, nothing, I was just looking for you somewhere, inside that head of yours. But ah, there you are at last, now come on, we gotta get to class"

"All right Cor, what's ze lesson now?" he says, putting on a fake accent.

"PE, what was up with you just then? What were you lookin'..."

Shawn stops.

"Ah... Listen Cory, I'm gonna take a time out from lessons"

"What? You can't do that, a time out?"

"Cory, it's an expression, look - I just got beat up; I can't do P.E."

He really can't. He hasn't run since before the black and white room. That's why he's been so late. It had taken him so long to get ready. He'd had to clean up, he missed the bus, and he had to take a very painful walk to school. He definitely can't run. Not now. He is getting used to it, sure, and in a few days the pain will probably begin to fade. The physical pain anyway.

"But Shawn, you got beat up like two weeks ago, the bruises look like they've almost gone...unless you broke anything, I don't understand..."

"Cory - what are you saying?" Shawn questions in a frustrated tone.

"I don't know, I just; I thought you were better, why are you getting upset?"

"I'm not, I'm not. Sorry, it's just that I'm not totally better yet, okay? I need to take a break from all of this"

And with that he walks away in the opposite direction.

"I'll see you at break Cor" he yells back, shaking the back of his hand above his head as a goodbye signal.

-------------------------

Shawn sits on the steps of the school stairs. He sighs. How is he going to do this? He can't avoid PE every week and it doesn't look like Chet's going to stop using him to get money any time soon.

'But you said you'd run away - you said you'd run away and never come back' he reminds himself. 'I did, but, but what about my friends, I wasn't thinking straight when I said that. As long as I can get through it each time, it'll be okay, once I'm eighteen I can do whatever I want...what am I thinking...'

'No you wont.' The sternly hoarse voice returns.

'Hey... We haven't spoken in a while' Shawn responds in his mind.

'You won't make anything of yourself' it replies, 'you'll just be a pathetic rent boy you're whole life'

Shawn punches the wall. It hurts like hell, but he has to let his anger out some how.

"No, No, I won't..." he accidentally screams out loud, "I WON'T!"

"You won't what kid?" comes a voice from behind him.

Shawn turns his head to see Janitor Bud standing there.

"What are you doing here kid?" he questions.

This is the wrong place to have a tantrum with yourself.

"Nu...nothing, I err.. I have to go" Shawn replies, mumbling.

He sets off down the corridor again; trying to push himself a little faster with every step. He wishes he could run. Damn it! He can't even run away, how pathetic is that? He stops at the school exit. Maybe the voice is right this time. Maybe he should run. Never come back. He leans against the wall near the door, feeling a little sick. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?

He lets himself drop into another sitting position on the floor. 'I'll just wait here, until the bell goes, and Cory comes out' he tells himself. He rubs at his eyes with the side of his palms. He yawns. He feels so tired that he could just fall asleep right there, right then...

(BRING...BRING...BRING..)

Shawn yawns once more. The bell finally went. He rises from his spot on the floor and goes to look for Cory. He finds him sitting with Topanga near the lockers.

"Shawnie, where ya been?" Cory calls over to him.

He continues to get closer to them, not watching where he's going.

"Hey" he motions with a light-hearted salute.

He's almost there, when someone walks into his path abruptly and bumps into him. He trips at a odd angle and grabs out for something to keep him balanced. Only he grabs the person who's bumped into him and they both go flying.

Shawn lets out a small yelp as he hits the ground. He screws his eyes up with pain. When he opens them again he sees a girl kneeled on the ground beside him. Many of the students are laughing at them. Shawn can't see her face because she's gathering up her books.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean, to..." he trails off as she turned to face him.

It's the girl. The girl he'd seen before walking down the corridor watching only her feet. The one he had felt a weird vibe because of. He stares again, except this time she notices. This time she stares back, somewhat confused. They both look confused.

"Oh, yeah...no it's okay, never mind" she replies, her eyes shifting from side to side.

"No, it's erm, not alright..." he replies, beginning to help her with her books. He pulls himself up from the floor and extends his hand out to help her up.

"...I shouldn't have been so clumsy... Need any help?" he asks, wanting to help her. Everyone else in the corridors, and their absent minded laughter disintegrate before them and its only him and her. He gives her a shy awkward smile as she takes his helping hand. She looks up at him for a moment before actually taking it.

"Thanks" she says meekly.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about walking into you, I wasn't looking where I was going..."

"And the dragging me down with you part" she interrupts with a nervous giggle and an innocent glance from Shawn to her feet again.

Shawn smirks, "Yeah, sorry about that too, I guess I just reached out and grabbed the first thing I could feel..." He clears his throat. "Erm, that sounded a little weird, but I'm sure, I can save my self from total embarrassment, erm... yeah, just give me a moment here... nope, no I cant..."

She laughs softly and somehow it makes Shawn smile.

"So, are you laughing at me or..." he says

"Yeah, I think I'm pretty much laughing at you" she replies, letting a small smirk crease her mouth.

"Ah well, it's nothing new I suppose" he takes a fleeting look down at the ground and then back up at her. What is this feeling of nervousness and sensitivity he has acquired through being around this girl? What is it about her that catches him off guard so suddenly?

"Wha...What grade are you in?" he asks.

She opens her mouth to answer him when another voice interrupts their conversation, and breaks the bubble around them.

"Shawn... Shawn?"

It's Cory's voice.

"Shawn?"

Shawn turns and looks around. He now sees Cory - Cory and Topanga making there way towards him.

"Yeah, guys, Oh - I tripped over, and this girl..." he turns back around to the girl, but she's gone. He looks down the corridor for a sign of her, but he can't see any.

"What girl?" Topanga asks, Cory holding her hand, the puppy lovers that they are.

"She, she was just here a second ago" Shawn replies.

He looks around again but cannot see her. Most of the students have cleared out, outside. There isn't many left. She's gone.

"I didn't even get her name," he murmurs under his breath.

"Oh, don't worry" Topanga begins.

"She goes to this school right, so you'll see her again" Cory ends her sentence.

They'd been doing that a lot lately. It had been freaking Shawn out.

"Yeah, I guess so..."

He looks down the corridor one more time and sighs.

"I hope so."

-------------------------


	12. Chapter 11: Let It Out

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 11: Let It Out -------------------------

'I've been down

Underground

Waiting

Watching

All the people go

They pass me by

I wonder why

They don't stop

Or say good-bye

Believe me when

I say to you

That I've been down

Further than you know

Further than you'd go

Please

Help me find a way

To take away the painCause it's cold in here

And I've nothing but tears

I used to think that

I could handle life

And what it threw at me

Just be all I could be

But a long came the cold

And no one could feel it

There was no one to hold

For no one knew truth

How could they know it?

For ...'

"Watcha' doin' there, homework?"

Shawn looks up at Chet, fingers uncurling around his pen.

"Yeah, yes sir" he replies.

He tries to avoid Chet's eyes so he'll leave him alone sooner. Chet gazes over Shawns shoulder.

"Poetry?"

"Yeah, it's for English"

Chet leans over further and snaps the piece of paper up from the desk with one hand. He looks over it for a few moments and then suddenly crumpled it up into a small paper ball.

"It's..." he says, dashing the paper ball into the bin and missing, "...it's too revealing, think of something else to write about" he finishes, leaving the rubbish on the floor.

"Er, yea...yes sir" Shawn answers.

'It was a bad poem anyway' he tells himself. He'd only written it for the hell of it. Like he'd ever actually do his English homework, well, it's unlikely anyway. He doesn't care for that shit. That's what he tells himself to make it easier at least.

He's hunched over the desk again, but he can still feel Chets presence in the room. He breathes quietly and begins to write again. His father leaves the room. He'll write something else instead though, in case Chet starts asking about his homework. Only, there isn't much going on in his life right now, except for the hurt and pain and anguish. So he just picks up his pen again and puts it to the paper. Sometimes when he can't think of what to write, he just writes every word without a clue of what it'll be about and then before he knows it, his thoughts will take over. Writing without thinking. So that's what he does.

- I could feel you

Down the hall

Turning at the wall

And deep inside my soul

Deep inside my hole

You shed a little light

And gave me back my sight

Did you feel it too?

My eyes following you

Wondering why?

Wondering how?

I'm even more confused

And even more bewildered

But strangely calmed

By your presence

Hoping you're not harmed

By my existence

Through eyes

So full of sorrow

Through eyes

Of understanding...

Shawn stops writing. The poem; it's about the girl he'd bumped into the day before last, in school. He hasn't seen her since. It's Saturday. He's never written anything like this before. He'd never had reason to. Sure he's had a lot of so-called girlfriends, but none of them had been real relationships, none of them had been anything real. It was just life. You're young. You have a girlfriend and you make out with her. It never meant anything to him. It just felt good. He doubts he means anything to any of them either, but they always seemed to get so attached. Only it's different now, she's different. It's a weird feeling. When you don't even understand it's happening... he doesn't even know this girl and suddenly there she is, appearing in his poetry. He wonders if this would sound romantic to her...

"Son, I've got another little job for you..."

Chet stands, leering over him. Shawn takes a moment to realise he's there and register what he'd just said. When he realises and finds his voice he tells Chet exactly what he's thinking. He can't handle another 'job'. He just can't. He'll kill himself. Even though he'd tried to tell himself that he could handle it before in reality every time it comes, he always brakes down and just wishes he were dead.

"No" he starts, standing, "I'm not going through that again. I'm serious; you want me to kill myself? Huh? Cause that's what I'm gonna do if you keep doing this to me..."

Chet backhands him across the face. He sniffs, turns his face back to look at Chet and continues.

"...Oh yeah, dad, hitting me is really gonna stop me from running away or killing myself, so which is it? Seeing as you hate me so much that you'd rape me, your own son, I'm gonna say that you wouldn't care either way..."

He hits him again. Not too hard, more like a very hard slap.

"...It never stops dad, it never stops does it...?"

SMACK! Shawn spit out a little blood onto the carpet. One of his teeth tore at his gum and the wound inside his mouth begins to leak.

"...But its all fine. Ya know why? 'Cause I'll be better than you, I'm better than you right now! Better than you could ever be, you're nothing, and you're a sad pathetic old man, who likes to rape young boys..."

WHACK! This time he gets Shawn in the stomach. He doubles over in pain, but still tries to squeeze a few more lines out.

"...You're pathetic... watch out you'll ruin you're fucking merchandise..." he sneers.

He stares up at Chet, who slapped him across the face one more time. The slaps seem to be lessening in force so he must actually be thinking about his "fucking merchandise". Chet opens his mouth to speak and out slips this calm toned voice.

"You know you're gonna do this. I know you're not gonna kill yourself, ya know why?" he says.

"Whys that?" Shawn coughs.

"Because you still believe something's gonna come along, that someone's gonna save ya from all this, and hey, that's fine, its even the tiniest bit possible, and you can believe whatever the fuck you want to believe, but you're gonna come with me right now, and you're gonna make me some more fucking money! You got that?"

Shawn doesn't reply. He doesn't know what to retort or answer back with. He just sits there with an angry, temperamental look on his face, because he knows his father is right. He just wishes he wasn't. He knows he'd always be too scared to kill himself. He knows he'll always hang onto something that will never happen.

Chet walks over to him and takes the new poem he'd written from his desk.

"Like this" he states, holding out the piece of paper. "...You think this...girl, well, I'm hoping it's a girl..." which surprises Shawn. "...You think she'd ever actually be interested in a dumb fuck like you, huh?"

Shawn stares at the ground.

"Maybe..."

Chet laughs sneeringly at him.

"Sure, son... you know no one's gonna save you, no one cares about you enough, and as soon as you get that into your thick skull you can get on with everything I'm teaching you" he laughs.

Shawn gulps, "You're wrong" he spits out. "Cory, Cory cares about me, his family, and Mikey..." he shuts up.

"Mikey?" Chet scoffs. "Who's Mikey then?"

"Just a kid at school" Shawn replies dryly.

"Yeah, sure, whatever..." he mutters "...Get up, we're going."

Shawn tries to force himself not to move.

"NOW!" Chet yells hard-heartedly.

Shawn drags himself away from the desk and walks outside, following his father. Chet walks around to the back of the truck to open the trunk, where he's going to make Shawn stay during their journey. This is his chance, while Chet is busy. He looks towards Chet and then towards the trailer park exit and back to Chet one more time. He'll have to make a decision. It'd hurt, but he could run. That's it, he's sick of not being able to get away. He could run right now. He can run right now...

He's running. Chet's screaming after him, but he's running as fast as his aching body will carry him. He's trying to remember the root to Mikey's flat; some parts of what he sees are familiar but it's pitch black and about 9 O'clock. Chet's voice roaring after him echoes in his head. His heart is thumping madly against his chest at full force and he can't control his breathing, but he won't stop until he's at Mikey's place. He won't stop until he feels safe enough to.

He coughs as he runs and glances behind his shoulder. He's scared of what's going to happen now. Chet has a client all ready for him; he's going to be so angry. He's going to be so hard on him when he gets back, if he gets back. He laughs at his own stupidity. He always goes back. He always does this. What's the point any more? He's so dumb. Chet's right. How could anyone care about him when he's this stupid? No, but it'd be stupid to believe Chet. He was just trying to get at him, and crush his spirit so he could use him for his own dirty greedy needs! Only, a part of him really does believe him. When you've been told all your life that you're something, it kind of gets hammered into you, and it's hard to let go of; it's hard to forget.

He's lost. He doesn't have a clue how to get to Mikey's home - especially in the dark. Along with that he can feel himself begin to leak again. All that running had made him start to bleed again.

"Oh, not again" he sighs. "I guess I a little more understanding into what girls have to go through with periods then" he comments to himself. He would have laughed if he wasn't so petrified and if the joke didn't have such a sick basis to begin with. "Mike, where is your house?" he whispers aloud.

He's completely and utterly lost. He looks around and then leans against a wall.

"Oh god" he whispers again. "What the hell am I gonna do now?"

'Kill yourself?'

He was wondering how long it would be before his favourite little desolate voice would be back.

"Shut up!" he cries.

'Why?' the voice says. 'You know you want all this to end...and really who will miss you, is there anyone who wont eventually get over your death, and you'll be free'

"Just, shut up!"

'You know you want to...'

Shawn sighs. "I can't do that..."

'Sure you can. You've been saying you would all night... see that broken bottle, just slice it across your veins and you'll be free.'

"I have friends. I have responsibilities," he answers back.

'Your friends? Cory and Topanga have each other. They'll get over you... And what responsibilities are these?'

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" Shawn questions, his eyes beginning to tear up with salty droplets.

'I'm not doing anything to you Shawn. You make this pain for yourself; you could get rid of it all now. You could get rid of all the pain you're holding inside, just open up your veins and let out all the pain. It's trying to get out...'

Shawn glances towards the broken bottle lying near a trashcan.

"I, I just can't"

'You're father was right. You're letting him be right. He said you'd be too scared to do this, he said you'd be gullible, still holding onto false hopes...he knew how pathetic, and worthless you are, he...'

"OKAY!" Shawn screams. "FINE! I, I'll do it, I'll do it, just shut up, please just shut the hell up..."

He stumbles over to where the broken bottle lies. He glimpses around and seeing no one he picks it up. He pulls his shirtsleeve down and turns the back of his arm to face the ground, preparing to strike. He lowers his arm further and hesitates somewhat.

'Scared...pathetic...alone...free'; it's voice echoes in his head as he tries to make reason of what he's doing.

"I'll show you dad!" raising the bottle end up into the air...

-------------------------To be continued-------------------------

So how are my fanfiction fans doing? You like? Thought I'd go for a little cliff-hanger. The review button looks very satisfying today doesn't it, hm? Hehe. Cesca, x


	13. Chapter 12: Horror Convention?

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 12: Horror Convention? -------------------------

"Well - I'm not saying it was boring, I'm just saying it...just...could have been...a little more thrilling"

"It's ballet Alan, how thrilling can it get? Should they throw in a few machine guns and watch them all have it out on the dance floor?"

Shawn has the broken bottle just a couple of inches away from his wrist when he suddenly hears familiar voices coming from nearby.

"Never mind honey, you know, ballets just not my thing, but if you like it I'd see it a million times over"

"Aw, that's sweet, but we both know it's not true..."

"You know just how to spoil my romantic illusions."

That was Mr. Matthews Voice. That's Cory's fathers' voice. He listens to them as they approach the area where he is standing. They're heading in his direction. He can hear them kiss and they sound so happy and in love. He wishes he had parents like them; Parents who care about each other, and especially parents who care about their children and what happens to them.

He listens to them for a moment. It almost makes him smile. He imagines how awesome it would be if they were his parents. He sighs at the fantasy he'd imagined and his eyes find their way back to that broken bottle still gripped in his right hand. He was really going to do it. He really was. He can't do it now though, especially with the Matthews around.

He hides in the shadows and watched them pass by in each other's arms. As long as there are people like Mr. And Mrs. Matthews to show him that life can really work out, he can't kill himself; he hasn't gone through all this hell for nothing. He won't let it all be for nothing. He just wishes that his happy ending wouldn't takes so long to come along.

'It's never gonna happen Shawnie' the voice in his head retorts immediately.

"Arg...SHUT UP!" he cries.

He has to stop shouting and talking back to the voice in his head, especially aloud. People will really think he's lost it, that he's mad.

"Shit" He whispers.

He can hear Mr. And Mrs. Matthews question each other on what the noise was. Now they're coming back in his direction again. 'Why would they come in the direction of someone yelling in the street at night?' he thinks to himself.

"Alan, am I hearing things, or did that sound like a young boys voice"

'Typical' he thinks to himself.

"No, I heard it too" Alan replied. "I don't know about you either but for some reason I could have sworn it sounded like Shawn...Cory did say he's been dealing with something terrible lately, it could be him..."

'Classic – the all caring, all knowing figurative parents' he remarks in his mind.

If he comes out from where he's hiding now they'll see him, and if he stays there, they'll find him. It's dark; they won't be able to see the dry tears streaking his face and they won't be able to see the pain in his face every time he takes a step. Will they?

"Shawn, Shawn, is that you?" Mrs. Matthews questions.

"Shawn?" Mr. Matthews backs her up.

So he steps out of the shadows and begins walking down the road as casually as he can. He'll risk it. What other choice does he have other than to run, and that will only cause suspicion and make things worse. Maybe they won't see him.

"Shawn stop!"

He hears Mr. Matthews voice ring from behind him. How can they know it's him, it's so dark? Nevertheless he ends up turning around. The two are now just metres away from where he stands.

"What is it?" he says like nothing has happened.

"Shawn, what are you doing out so late on your own? Do you know it's half twelve" Mrs. Matthews steps closer towards him.

He takes a step backwards.

"I, I just hang out here sometimes" he replies, "I didn't know it was late, no..."

"Well, what does your father think about you being out so late on your own?" Alan says, taking a step closer as well. Alan had never been a fan of Chets.

"My dad?" Shawn scoffs. "Oh, I don't know..."

"Shawn, are you alright?" Mrs. Matthews asks, her voice soft and full of genuine concern.

"Yeah, yup, I'm fine, couldn't be better..."

He stops talking just before his voice evidently shakes. He's so scared of them finding out...he doesn't even know why really.

"You don't sound to over the moon Shawn, I think you should come home with us.. maybe get a bite to eat?"

"No, no, I, I have things to do, places to go" he coughs a little, and continues, "...people to see"

"Come on Shawn" Mr. Matthews states.

He steps even closer; he's almost close enough to see the angry bruises stretching across Shawn's face that have begun to fade or the pained expression he's trying to hide. Shawn steps back again.

"Why are you running away from us?" he says.

"I, I'm not, I just I can't go back with you, I'm sorry" he turns to leave, but Alan comes up behind him and grabs his arm lightly.

"Wait, Shawn, please," he says.

Shawn hides the pain that is cause just by Alan tugging lightly at his arm and turns back around. He stares at the ground, wishing he could just disappear.

Mr. Matthews notices the bruises on his face.

"Shawn, where are those bruises from?" he questions.

Shawn gives them a troubled expression. "Didn't Cory tell you, I erm, got jumped by a gang"

Realisation struck Mr. Matthews. "Oh, yes, we're sorry, he did tell us about that. It's terrible. Did you phone the police about it - those trouble makers shouldn't just get away with something like this...?" he states shaking his head in vain as he does so.

Shawn stares at Mr. Matthews as though he's looking right through him.

"Shawn?"

He snaps out of it. "Oh, yeah I did", why did he say that? "But they haven't been able to find them yet..."

"Shawn is that blood on your pants?"

How is he going to get out of this? Blood, blood's always tricky to explain, especially when its situated in such an embarrassing area. So he just does the only thing he can think of - He shoots as much bull as he can.

"Listen Mr. Matthews, I'm just angry at my dad, I didn't want to be around, because, well, he promised to take me to this horror convention and he didn't because of something dumb..."

'Where the hell did a horror convention come from? What the hell!' he thinks to himself.

"Horror convention?" Alan says, his face a mixture of confusion and doubt.

His eyes narrow, but Shawn looks over the expression on his face and forces himself to continue. He sighs and gives Alan one of his angst ridden teen eye rolls.

"...And so ya know - I was angry, so I came over here to think... I went to the convention on my own..."

"And the blood?"

"Yeah, I'm getting to that" Shawn replies, forcing a small smile, while acting in his best performance to date under the circumstances. "Well, you know me, wasn't lookin' where I was sitting and I kinda, erm, sat on this special balloon that a kid had left stuck to a bench. You know how they sometimes fill the balloons with a red liquid that resembles blood?"

"No" both Mr. and Mrs. Matthews state at the same time.

"...well they do, and it had all this fake blood in it and like popped. You can buy them near the souvenir shops...so a kid must have definitely left it there. It was embarrassing though because I had to walk around the place looking like I was really a female with a really annoying problem.."

He looks at the both of them and gives his puppy dog eyes, trying to ensure their belief in his story.

"Sorry I scared you," he ends with.

They look a little wary for a moment and then Mr. Matthews brakes out in a smile and a small laugh escapes him. Mrs. Matthews smiles too.

"Shawn, you had us really worried then, we thought something terrible had happened to you"

He turns his head at an angle. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I guess I was just being melodramatic," he forces a small grin.

He doesn't know how he'd done it, but he'd gotten out of the trickiest situation he's ever had to get out of.

"Listen I'm going straight home, alright, I need to run, ya know, dad will be worried" what a lie that is.

He forces himself to jog away from them in the opposite direction.

"Shawn!"

He turns to the sound of Alan's voice again.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Its that way to the trailer park isn't it?" he points in the left of where Shawn had begun to run in the direction of.

"Oh, well... I was going to take a short cut, but you're right, this way is probably safer..."

He didn't think they'd let him run off, but as he backs away, and turns down the street Alan had pointed at they don't try to stop him again, and so he begins to run, hoping they won't see how badly he does actually run. He doesn't stop running until he is well out of their view and then he cringes at the pain in between his legs, as he begins to walk at a slow pace, gritting his teeth.

'I'm a genius' he thinks to himself a little while after the pain has subsided. It wasn't a bad story to think up on the spot and make seem so real. Maybe it's because its what he wishes had really happened. He still isn't going to go back. He doesn't know what he's going to do now. Why did he push Cory's parents away anyway? They seem nice. Maybe they could have helped him; they could adopt him. He laughs out loud at the suggestion his mind had given him. 'Who would want to adopt me?' he asks himself. Even if they did, I'd probably be shoved into the system anyhow. He stops walking.

He isn't going to find Mikey's flat out of luck. He exhales deeply and tries to hold back the damn tears.

"Damn it!" he cries out loud.

He so badly wants to find Mikey. He kind of comforts him, and makes him feel like everything isn't as bad as it really is. He ends up crying again, but because he misses Mikey and being around someone who really understands the shit he goes through and really cares. He sits down on the curb in front of the main road and buries his head in his hands. He can't go back home, and he can't go to Mikey's, cause he can't find the damn place, and he can't go to Cory's because he's probably in bed. He could go in through the bedroom window.

'No' he tells himself. 'Cory will go get his parents, and what if they're in the room when I go in'

He's so depressed and alone that he'd take that chance. Maybe he can sleep there for a little while and get up early in the morning before his parents wake up.

------------------------- By the time he makes it to Cory's house he doesn't even know what time it is. He just hopes he'll be able to sleep there for a little while at least.

------------------------- Yep, updating a lot, and you know why, 'cause of all you lovely reviewers, where would I be without my reviewers! Hehe, cya for now, Cesca, x

p.s. Oh and yep, seems like I can keep this pace up for now!


	14. Chapter 13: Number One Pimp

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 13: Number One Pimp -------------------------

"Cory!" Shawn hisses quietly.

"Cory, you awake?" He taps on the side of the window lightly and tries to peer into the room, while waiting a moment longer for any sign of movement.

"Cory, just wake up would ya!" he whispers hoarsely again.

He can see the bed covers stretched across Cory's bed stir and a loud yawn coming from the same direction as him.

"Cory?" he repeats.

"Who's there?" comes Cory's voice at last.

"Shh...it's me, Shawn," he says, trying not to make too much noise.

Cory sits up straight, and yawns again. He drags his feet out from underneath his blanket and rubs at his eyes.

"What time is it?" he whispers.

"I dunno, about one or summat like that" Shawn replies, crawling in through the window.

"Why are you... here so late?" Cory questions with another yawn.

Shawn closes the window behind him and shuffles towards Cory's bed.

"I had an argument with my dad" he sighs. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Yeah, sure" he yawns. "What do you like for breakfast?"

Shawn smirks. Typical Cory. Shawn glances over at Eric's bed to make sure he's asleep. He can't be exactly sure though.

"Shawn?"

He hesitates, wishing he could spill his guts to Cory. "Oh, no... I'm not staying for breakfast, I erm, I'll leave before you and your parents get up..."

"Oh, but like.. but why?" Cory raises his sleepy eyes and his eyebrows in a curious manner and licks his bottom lip.

"I just need to leave early okay? Don't tell your parents I was here, you gotta promise me that Cor" Shawn puts on his serious face.

"Yeah, but you gotta tell me what's wrong before I go promising anything, I need to know why."

Shawn rolls his eyes. "You're my best friend right? So why can't you just trust me on this - if it was your life, I wouldn't be asking so many questions, I'd just promise, I'd do what you asked, because that's what good friends do, are you a good friend?"

Cory nods, "...but good friends shouldn't ignore their friends problems... what if you end up really hurt, and I could have stopped it..."

"I know that makes sense... its true, but I'm not gonna die or anything, just this once, please Cor, do what I want, please..."

Cory sighs, "damn you and your incessant puppy dog eyes"

"Thanks... Right, well, I better get some sleep then. What time do your parents usually get up?" he questions.

Cory shrugs his shoulders. "Probably about sevenish, it depends, only wait, it's weekend isn't it? They probably won't get up until about at least nine, probably ten. They always have a bit of a lye in on Sundays..."

Shawn nods softly. "Well, good, I can get at least seven hours of sleep before I have to leave then.." he forces a small grin. "Can I have a pillow, I'll sleep on the floor here..."

Cory leans over the other side of his bed and pulls something out from one of his drawers.

"Here" he states. "Here's two blankets, and two pillows...you sure you'll be alright on the floor?"

Shawn nods once again, but doesn't give any vocal replies. He watches Cory as he opens his mouth to say something else. He inhales slowly, but no words escape his throat, and he ends up closing his mouth a second later.

"Thanks, Cor" he smiles meekly, and he starts to make himself comfortable on the floor, setting out the covers and pillows to make his own temporary bed.

"Sh, Shawn, I hope you don't think I was being nosy, I just get worried about you, I only ask you questions because I care about what happens to you..."

Shawn lies there not moving. He pretends to be asleep. Cory waits for a reply, but after getting none he sighs and turns over. He lies there yawning for about ten minutes, thinking about how he can help Shawn without breaking any promises, thinking what in the world could be wrong with him. The thoughts that Shawns own father is abusing him is a little too disturbing to cross Cory's naive mind. Eventually he falls asleep and these thoughts are broken for the night.

-------------------------

Shawn's eyes flutter open; they adjusted to his surroundings and he remembers he's in Cory's room. He suppresses a yawn and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He can hear birds chirping, and a few cars passing outside. Cars. That means he should probably get going. People were up and its Sunday. He blinks a few times and looks towards Cory. All he can see is his arm poking out from underneath the covers. Why he still has his watch on, only God knows.

"Shit..." Shawn whispers as he realises it's now 8:58-am.

Cory's parents will probably be up soon. He forces himself up from the floor quietly, and gathers all the bed covers and pillows together. He pushes them underneath Cory's bed, trying to conceal the evidence that he'd been there and then slips his sneakers on. He heads towards the window, looking back to Cory one more time; as though it is the last time he'll ever see him again. He doesn't know, it might be.

"See-ya later Cor" he whispers, before closing the window behind him.

He jumps from the tree branches just below Cory's window and stumbles away from the house. He walks down the road, trying not to think about anything. Just pretend like nothing matters, and nothing ever will. There's no point worrying about the future, it just makes the present even worse. Should he go back to the trailer? Should he runaway? Should he go to the police? What if Cory was right, and something happens to him while he can't make up his own damn mind, and its too late... He stops thinking and just keeps walking in one direction. Maybe it'll take him some place new and different. Maybe he just needs to get away.

So he walks and walks, and he sighs in confusion, but he doesn't cry. He's over crying over the things life throws at him. He makes a vow, right there and then never to cry because of the evil bastards in his life again. It doesn't look like anyone's going to step in and repel the knocks, so he might as well just make the best of the situation... Suddenly a truck pulls up beside him. It takes him a few moments to realise that Chet is storming towards him, and by the time he does it's too late.

"Eh, erm, dad, I..." he falters as Chet drags him by the shirt and flings him into the front of the truck.

"Don't you 'eh, erm, dad' me you little shit, you know how much money you cost me last night, do ya?"

Obviously he doesn't. He shakes his head a little.

"Two thousand fuckin' bucks, but don't worry I'll make sure you earn it all back and more"

Two thousand dollars. Shawn is left speechless. For a moment he wonders if its worth it. He suffers every day anyway, but he could that much... 'No!' he tells himself, 'it's all too wrong...'

Chet speeds off down the road. He's meant to be doing thirty miles per hour but is actually doing more like sixty.

"Dad calm down - you're driving too fast, you might hit someone..."

Chet slaps his son in the face, quick and hard.

"Shut the fuck up, you speak when I tell ya you can speak...have you still not got that by now?"

Shawn nods and Chet slaps him again.

"I said you got that?" he asks threateningly.

"Yeah, yes sir" Shawn mutters.

A little blood begins to leak from Shawn's nose. He wipes it away and stares out of the window wondering if he'll see the outside world again. He knows he will. It's mostly a matter of whether he wants to see it again. They pull up into the trailer park.

"Ya know, I talked to Karl Finch.. the man you saw talking to me last week, he said you need to be controlled. He said I should beat some discipline into you... as long as I don't harm that pretty face of yours" Chet laughs.

Shawn doesn't respond. Beatings, he'd put up with them ever since he was a small child. His quiet unbothered reaction gains him a hard punch to the stomach. He doubles over in pain.

"I'm sorry," he groans. He doesn't exactly know what for.

"Sorry won't save your faggot ass" Chet replies coldly.

He yanks Shawn from the truck and drags him over to the trailer. He swings the door open and throws him inside, slamming it back shut behind him. Before Shawn can even gather enough strength to struggle from his grip Chet is standing, staring down at him. He lays his left foot down hard on Shawns back and the other half of his right shoe on the back of his neck. He smirks. Then he begins to take his belt off... Sick images enter Shawn's head. He tries to struggle frantically, his eyes that of a terrified caged animal, but he can't.

"No, no Shawn, that's not what I'm doing, I'll leave that to all my little buddies..." he laughs.

Chet rips Shawn's shirt up and tugs his jeans down revealing his bloodstained boxers. He can feel the shame building up again. The belt lies carelessly in Chets hands. He squeezes his fists around it and twists vexingly. Then he swings it over his back, waiting for the right moment to strike and an instant later he lets it swings it back around again and smacks it down onto Shawn's back. He swings and he swings, and the slap of the belt cracks down like a whip. His skin burns with every hit. The back of his legs burn. His arms burn, but his back feels as though it is on fire. He's burning alive, and no one is there to see it but his heartless father. He figures maybe he'll burn up so much he might disappear and not have to worry any longer.

Chet stops, appearing to be out of breath. It must be hard work, whipping the crap out of someone. He feels his jeans being fully dragged away from his body and his shirt torn off. He's too exhausted to struggle any more as Chet lifts him from the ground and heads out of the door. He looks around making sure there's no one around and drops Shawn into the boot of an unknown vehicle. The boot is closed and he feels cramped with little air to breathe. It's pitch black. Some moments later, when he regains a little of his strength he begins to bang at the boot from within it.

"Let me out!" he screams.

He hates feeling trapped. He hears muffles voices outside of the car. He kicks and punches out, screaming.

"Let me out of here! Let me out!"

He thumps at the car with closed fists, and kicks out hard with the heel of his feet.

"Let me fucking out!"

He begins to breathe heavily.

"I'll bring him back Tuesday, how's about 12 O'clock?" he hears a familiar voice say.

'Oh God' he says to himself, that was the strange mans voice, what did Chet call him, Karl something. Karl Finch. The car engine begins to roll and he can feel the car drive off. There's a strange sinking feeling in his stomach. After about ten minutes he decides pounding at the car and screaming won't make his situation any better and he tries to hide away in his thoughts...

'Barely any strength

Nothing left to go on

But endless hope

From a fearful new world

Where everyone you know

And every thing you hate

Are thrown together

Where they can only shake

All tied into tether

Find me a place

As tranquil as my thoughts

Let me be free

Cause I've been all I can be

And more

God, don't you see

I'm reaching the end

Of the line

I'm driving around this bend

Have I lost my mind...?'

The car stops. The voices begin again, except he can't hear Chet. Chet isn't with them. It's just him and some stranger who wants to sell his body to old perverted men who are into molesting young boys.

"Where do ya want me to put him for now?" comes an unfamiliar voice.

He can't take it any more. "Let me out!" he cries again. "Let me go!"

The boot flings open and two men stand there, looking down on him. One man, quite well built, muscly, blonde tanned hair, looking to be around twenty- five and wearing torn up jeans and a casual blue t-shirt, the other man, Karl Finch.

"Skinny kid aint he" the blonde says.

He sounds sort of English. Course Shawn's never met anyone from England so he can't be exactly sure.

"Get up!" Karl Finch states in a cold, flat tone.

Shawn watches both men closely; worry setting into his bewildered face. He pulls himself out from the boot, noticing the both of them glancing at his bloodstained boxers. He stands there, silent, rubbing his shoulders with both hands crossed across his chest. He looks down at the ground, catching sight of all the sore red lines stretching their way across his legs and arms, the worse ones are on his back, but he can't see them. Even they'll fade eventually though. Most of them usually do. He glances around at his surrounding. They're in some kind of garage.

"So where do you want me to put him for now?" the blonde man asks the other.

"Wherever, don't make him too comfortable. I want you to treat him like the dirt that he is" Finch replies.

Shawn still stares at the ground, waiting for something to happen. He knocks back any tears that were trying to surface, thinking of his vow and keeps his head low.

"C'mon on then" The blonde man says, slapping him on the back of the head. "Move!"

Shawn flinches away and the man leads him to a door near the back of the garage room and pushes him through it, closing and locking it behind him. Finch gets back in the car. Shawn hears the garage door begin to open and the car drive out. He looks up at the blonde man, who then sits down on a small plastic chair; they're in a narrow hallway. It's quite dim.

"Wh...what are you gonna do to me?" he says, on the edge of stuttering.

"Me?" The man replies. "Nothing."

Shawn watches him warily, because he doesn't believe him.

"Look kid, I'm just meant to look after you until tonight... I'm just doing my job.."

Shawns eyebrows crease questioningly. "Why? What's happening tonight?"

The blonde mans expression turns very much sympathetic, "You mean you really don't know?"

Shawn shakes his head.

"Man, they get meaner every year" The man mumbles. "Anyway I'm Robbie"

Shawn nods. "Okay."

"And you are?" he asks.

Shawn doesn't reply.

"Well, C'mon what can I do with your first name, I'm not gonna track you down or anything. Shall I just call you rent boy number 1002 then?"

Shawn raises an eyebrows in surprise.

"There's that many..." he says.

"Well slight exaggeration there," Robbie says.

"Oh" Shawns mutters, "Shawn, my name is Shawn"

He doesn't even know why he's talking to this guy. It keeps his mind from wondering about what is to happen tonight though.

"Oh, cool name..." Robbie says. "...I'm guessing your dad put you up to this?"

Shawn nods again.

"Sorry about the slap to your head, had to make myself look mean and angry enough to look after you in front the no.1 pimp, bastard... I'm guessing your dad did that to your back as well..."

Another small nod.

"Makes me a little glad that I never knew my dad I suppose... " Robbie sighs.

Shawn begins to say something but he's afraid of what he should or shouldn't say.

"Spill" Robbie says.

"What?"

"You wanted to say something, don't be afraid, I'm not gonna hurt ya."

Shawn breathes in heavily before beginning to speak. "Well, how come you didn't know your dad and how come you've got an English accent?"

The question sounded a little dumb when he played it back in his head. Robbie smiles at his confusion however.

"Was born in England. I was in an orph'nage, children's 'ome, or whateva you wanna call it til I was 'bout twelve. I 'ated the place, but I spose lookin' back on it, it wasn't too bad... anyway thas when I came 'ere, when I was twelve... Most kids would 'ave picked up the American accent straight away and you wund't be able to tell the diff, but for some bizarre reason I've neva lost my accent."

"Oh" Shawn says, "Did you get adopted?"

"Kinda" he coughs.

'Kinda', how do you get kind of adopted? He wants to ask, but doesn't venture any further with the subject.

"Anyway, what's your life story then? Sit down if you like..."

Shawn's sighs as he sits down on another plastic chair. "It's a long one..."

He feels very weird sitting there in just his boxers, especially ones tainted with his blood.

"Cut it short then."

He really doesn't want to talk about it, but he's still somewhat afraid of disobeying this large man, despite his sudden friendliness.

"Well, my mum left a few months ago... she was my only protection from dad really, he erm... got worse after she left, trying to get me into all this, no one knows how bad it is, my friends, my teachers, they think... well actually I don't know what they think...I don't know, I guess that's about it really, I don't know." he gulps and looks up at Robbie again.

"Life really does suck, don't it?"

"Yeah, it does" Shawn sneers, "Wha..." he forces his words. "What is happening tonight? What's gonna happen to me?"

Robbie's grin drops from his face. "You don't want to know kid, you really don't..."

"Please, please, just tell me" he pleads with those uncertain eyes of his.

Robbie exhales and closes his eyes. "Every year, they hold this thing, the pimps who run this certain prostitution ring...sort of like an auction..." he glances up at Shawn, fear for this boy shining evidently in his eyes. "They sell kids, usually kids like you...to the highest bidders, they get to keep you for 24 hours, and do whatever they want with you...only all the really sick bastards know about it, and they're the only ones who bid..."

Shawn sits there, stunned, his mouth agape.

"I'm, I'm sorry kid."

The fear he's feeling is obvious to Robbie.

"Let me go..." he says shakily, "please don't let them do this to me, please let me go, let me out of here"

He forces himself not to cry and grits his teeth together, running a shaky hand through his greasy dark hair.

"Calm down, calm down" Robbie repeats in a soft voice. "I can't let you go, I'm sorry, this is my job, they'll kill me anyway, they'll just replace me with someone tougher and meaner and then you'll have an even worse time"

Shawn breathes in heavily, not knowing how to take all of this in. He buries his head in his hands.

"Why do they do this to me? Why am I always being beaten or fucked and now I'm being sold..." He shakes his head and screws his face in pain as he tries to force down the lump in throat. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Robbie rests a light hand on Shawn's shoulder. "It's not your fault, don't ever blame yaself..."

"Oh god, god, god..." he starts to repeat again, he doesn't even know why he says it, but he just does.

"C'mon, follow me..." Robbie says.

Shawn looks up cautiously. "Why, where are we going?"

"I'm just taking you somewhere warm, with a bed"

The word bed meant sleep, but it could also mean sex. He looked at Robbie warily again.

"A bed?"

Robbie looks at him with an even more sympathetic expression, "...for you to get some rest."

Shawn nods and drags himself up and out of the chair. He itches his eyes with a few rubs of his fingers and follows Robbie. He can run right now, he can run and get through that door; maybe he can get the garage door open. Maybe it's already open. He doesn't run of course though. It had taken most of his courage to run the first time, and look what that had done for him.

"Here ya go" Robbie says, as Shawn reaches up to him.

He's holding open a door. He peers into the room. It has flowery wallpaper and a bed inside. A king sized bed. Why a king sized bed, it kind of scares him. Robbie senses his fear even more.

"You never know when you're gonna get the chance to sleep this comfortable again... please don't tell anyone I let you sleep in here..." Robbie gives him a friendly wink and then locks him inside.

"Get some rest," Robbie states through the door.

Now he's gone. Shawn wanders over to the bed and crawls in beneath the thick blankets. It's very comfortable and he feels so drained that he falls asleep within hardly any time at all. He's never slept this comfortable before. Never. He figures it's good of Robbie to risk his neck so that he can sleep comfortable and for a few hours he tries to rid himself of the dread of what is still to come.

-------------------------

Hey people Yawns I'm pretty tired. Hope you like this new chapter - sorry I'm so mean on Shawn, but life's a bitch and well I think you really get that point from my story, don't worry I won't be toooooo hard on him, coughs We'll just have to see where this story takes us...

The usual reminder of course that the review button is your friend, talk to it, tell it your most intimate of secrets... Just 21 reviews away from meeting the 100 reviews mark hehe. Of course it the quality of the reviews which matter, the advice, the critisms, the encouragement, not the quantity : P ... see-ya later people, Cesca, x

Man... 9 pages, Size 11 font, you can't say this chapter is too short... Oh and I tried to post this yesterday but I couldn't sign in. The whole thing going wrong with site, and read only crap... blah, blah, blah, so here it is now anyhow.


	15. Chapter 14: In The Forest

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 14: In The Forest -------------------------

"Kid? Shawn? Wake up buddy..."

He doesn't want to get up. He wants to lye there forever, to just sleep forever.

"No..." he mumbles, "wanna sleep..."

"You can't sleep right now," Robbie says. "Probably not for the next 24 hours..." He whispers under his breath.

Shawn recalls what he had told him earlier. It resends shivers through him, even though he's covered in a large thick blanket. His eyes begin to water at the realisation of how close to this auction he actually is.

"C'mon, you gotta get up Shawn" Robbie sighs. "...When they come for you...the highest bidder...go to another place.. another place in your mind, just anywhere but there."

Shawn nods and the lump in his throat begins to resurface. "Okay" he murmurs.

Robbie stands up straight and waits for Shawn to get up also. He walks over to the door and Shawn forces himself up and follows.

"I'm too scared" Shawn sniffs shakily. "I'm really fuckin' scared..."

"Kid. I'm scared for you - you'd have to be a dumb-ass not to be afraid. Don't ever lose that fear - it means you've gone hollow inside, it means there's nothing left, and then no one can ever reach you again."

Shawn gulps and nods. They're down the hallway now. Robbie opens a door with a padlock on it, a sign stating "KEEP OUT HARMFUL CHEMICALS" staring back at him; they walk through the door. They make their way across an empty room and through another door. They walk through one last hallway, making a left turn at the end. Phoney looking portraits of disturbingly eerie looking people with three eyes or two noses or a leg where an arm should be decorate the walls of the hallway.

Shawn has an odd feeling as he passes one of the rooms with another KEEP OUT sign attached to it, as though something really bad is happening behind the door. He knows the likelihood of that being true in a place like this is very high anyway. He doesn't even know if he wants to know what's going on behind it.

"Here we are." Robbie says in a flat sad tone of voice.

Shawn stares at the door in front of him, another deadly sign attached to it. He takes a deep breath.

"Please..." he begs one last time, "don't let this happen.."

Robbie stares into his terrified caged animal eyes, trying to force himself to do the right thing.

He shakes his head slowly. "Shawn, you know I can't..."

"Ple...ase..." Shawn's voice cracks.

"Shawn, do ya know how often I 'ave kids beggin' me to help 'em. Course I aint been doin' this for a long time, but still, why should I let one kid go and not the otha..."

"I won't make it out of this alive... please, save my life.. please..?"

Finally his guilt must have overcome him because Robbie finds himself nodding his head.

"Alright. Run." he says flatly.

Shawn stands there a few seconds, it had actually worked.

"Do...do I need any keys?"

Robbie then finds himself throwing the keys to all the doors in Shawn's direction. "If they catch ya, you err, ya kicked me and stole the keys right?"

Shawn nods, his expression one of gratitude, before turning to run.

"Shawn" he stops him, "Run as fast as you can, don't stop for anything or anyone, I don't wanna see you back here, okay?"

Shawn nods once again and begins to run in the opposite direction. 'Keep running' he tells himself. 'Don't stop.'

He run, careful not to fall over. He passes strange creatures on walls and spots on the ceilings. He passes that other door with the KEEP OUT sign attached to it and suddenly hears a muffled voice from the room that draws him toward it. He knows he shouldn't stop but he just has to. He has this really odd feeling about the room and the voice he'd just heard.

He steps towards the door and as he does it creeks open a little. He can hear the voices more clearly now.

"Go on, say it" One person says. They sound old, like around sixty-five. He peers through the gap in-between the door, glancing to the side, watching out for anyone that may be coming. He sees an old man, frizzled grey hair plastered to his sweaty half bald head. Rolls and chub and wrinkled skin. He's half naked on the edge of a bed, red velvety sheets. It makes him wanna puke.

"Say it." The man repeats.

He's lying on top of someone. They're naked and all that can be seen from where Shawn peeks in through is the man's legs. The other person looks skinny, young, but he can't see his face. He looks more like a teenager.

"Say it.."

"Alright" the guy says. "C'mon daddy, give it to me...Oh daddy..."

Shawn shuts off. Who's voice is that? It's so familiar. He's feeling very disturbed. And then he sees it. The long thin white scar running from the boys kneecap down to just above his ankle. Its Mikey. His breathing increases at this realisation and he feels like crying, but instead he pushes it away, and continues to run.

"No" he whispers angrily under his breath. "Not you, why you?"

He has to get out of there. He can't believe what he'd just seen. He can't believe the guy in that bed had been Mikey. Voices echo from down the hallway. He runs faster. He reaches the door he'd come through before and pushes a key into its lock, his fingers shakily searching for the right one. It doesn't work. He pushes another key into the lock, hoping it's the right one. Wrong again.

He can hear the voices getting louder and clearer down the hallway.

"C'mon, c'mon" he whispers to himself.

"Damn it!" Another key goes in, but it won't turn.

One of the keys finally works and the door slides open.

"Yes!" he squeaks.

He closes the door behind him, just as he sees two figures heading towards him. He begins to sprint. He won't stop now. He could swear to it. His heart pounds at his chest and his legs ache and burn. He passes the room, which he'd slept in, and finally finds himself at the door leading to the garage. He tries to sort through the keys again. Oddly enough the first key he pushes into the lock turns and the door opens. As he closes the door he hears more voices from down the hallway. He decides to lock it to slow down whoever's behind him.

He turns around and looks around towards the garage door. He sees a thin wire hanging down from the top of the door to the bottom. It's connected to some kind of handle. Suddenly there's a pounding at the door.

"Shit!" he blurts out.

He runs towards the garage door and pulls the handle. The garage door begins to slide upwards. He can hear the clinging of keys behind the other door. He tugs at the handle a little more and then crawls under the half open garage door.

The sky is pitch black outside. He hears the door open from inside of the garage and begins to run like hell again. There's a narrow path entwining into the darkness of a forest to the left of him and to the right there's a much wider stone path leading in the direction of houses and other people.

Then he notices five figures descending towards him, coming down the wider stone path. Five straggly looking men, in tight jeans and light coloured shirts. He turns automatically and runs down the narrow path and into the forest. He can hear yelling from behind him calling for him to stop. Like that'll happen. He can feel his toe bleeding as he trips on sharp stones and rocks. It's cold out tonight, even more so for him as he's only in a pair of boxers. Every breath he takes scratches at his throat.

In an attempt to throw them off his trail he strays from the path and runs into deserted areas of the forest. The twigs and nettles lay on the muddy surface of the forest sting his feet as he dashes frantically through the pitch-black of the night. He senses small animals fleeing as they hear him coming.

He keeps on running, without looking back. How could Mikey do what he was doing with that man. His father wasn't around to make him. He feels disgusted, ashamed with Mikey. He knew there had to be a catch. He knew something would go wrong. It had been too good to be true. Mikey's just like the rest of them. He'd lied to him. If he doesn't like that stuff why'd he do it when he doesn't have to... but, but he was almost considering it himself earlier, no... he was just surprised at the amount of money Chet makes off him...

He trips over a root sticking out from the ground and crashes to the ground. He lets out a shrilling scream as he feels something sharp penetrate his left hand. Shawn looks down at where his hand lies limply on the ground. A large 2 and a half-inch long rusted nail sticks out from the back of his hand. The nail had gone right through, impaling his hand.

"Oh my god..." he croaks out, "FUCK!"

He screws his eyes in pain. He can feel the blood trickling down his fingers. The people following him aren't that far behind. He tries to shut up so they won't find him. He holds his breath and listens to the yelling not so far away. If he stays here and they don't find him, even if they do, if he stays here long enough he can avoid the auction. He can avoid being sold to the highest bidder. The thought of it makes him even more nauseous than he already is.

Surprisingly his hand isn't bleeding as much as he would have expected it to. It probably would if not for the nail still embedded into him. The voices begin to get further and further away from him. He sighs and lets himself breathe. He yelps as he tries to lift his hand. Holding his breath, he waits... No one heard him.

He waits until he's certain the men had gone. He has to bite down on his other hand to stop himself from screaming. He lifts his left hand up, it feel weighed down by the nail, which probably doesn't really weigh too much, but his hand pulsates and it hurts excruciatingly. He has to get it out.

It's a really bad idea to pull the nail out, but he can't stand it being there, sticking out of his hand and he has no chance of getting away if they find him. He lays his hand on ground in front of him, bracing himself for the even worse pain that's to come. He rests his feet on his hand around where the nail is positioned and wraps his right hand fingers around the nail. He breathes in heavily, readying himself. There are a couple moments of hesitation.

"FUCK!" he screams as he pries the nail from his hand.

He pushes down on his hand with his feet and pulled as hard as he can. Tears automatically spring to his eyes and flow down his cheeks. He tries not to swear or make any more noises in case someone hears him. The nail finally slides out of his hand.

"Oh.. fuck..." he whispers as he lifted his hand up in front of his face. For a moment he can see right through his hand. There's a hole in his hand. It scares the hell out of him, but at the same time fascinates.

Shawn jumps around. A shuffling noise echoes all around him. Some birds brake the silence of the forest and fly off into the night time sky. The moon, bright and white, pokes its way through the trees and it gaze touches his face. He holds his hand up to the light and gazes through it once more. It had just been an owl and some crazy birds. He sighs and shakes his head. He's beginning to feel a little dizzy. He has to get out of there.

He grabs the keys from the ground, where he'd automatically thrown them when attempting to free himself of the nail that had impaled his hand. He tries to stand. Everywhere hurts. He feels even weaker and sorer than he did before. His earlier beating is starting to kick in. Now his feet bleed and scratches cover his arms and legs, along with the burning sensations all over his body. He stumbles towards the path to find some way of exiting the forest. He tries to find the path, he doesn't know if he's going in the right direction, but he tries to go back the way he'd come.

Eventually he finds the path. It seems darker now. He staggers onto the narrow path, hoping not to step on anything sharp and keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Could this get any worse?" he groans, catching his breath.

"Well now. That's a bit of a dumb question isn't it son. You know things can always get worse and they will..."

Shawn shakes his head at that statement. It's right. He should have known better than to say such a dumb thing. Chet stands behind him, his husky laugh loud and unrelenting. He turns around, expecting to see a bunch of guys standing there with him. Only Chet stands there alone. Of course, it doesn't matter anyhow, Chet's a much larger person than him and much stronger and he's not exactly in a state to fight back.

"How'd you know I was here?" Shawn questions.

Chet laughs again. "Actually I didn't. I came to see how high your bidder would go... Personally I wouldn't pay a dime for ya, but anyway, you weren't there, were you? Ya little shit, well you're not gonna miss out on our little sale this time" with that Chet steps closer.

Shawn feels something snap inside him. He steps forwards also, instead of backwards like he usually would.

"A SALE!" he screams, "A FUCKING SALE DAD!"

For the first time in his life, he finds himself not afraid of Chet. In fact all he feels now is pure hatred. He finds himself running towards Chet, this hatred burning in his eyes.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he snaps. "I'M NOT A CHILD ANY MORE DAD, I'M NOT TAKING YOUR SICK ORDERS! I KNOW YOU'RE NOT RIGHT... ACTUALLY IT'S A BIT FUCKING OBVIOUS!"

He's reached Chet by this point. He stares him in the face, knowing when Chet will attack. He knows him like a book.

There it was. '...as long as I don't harm that pretty face of yours...'. He wouldn't go for the face. Chet's arm lifts up in slow motion, going for Shawn's stomach. Shawn dodges away quickly and swings at Chet with his right hand, the keys still in the hand and sticking out in-between his fingers in a fist. He digs the keys into Chets face as he smacks him as hard as he can. Chet actually falls to the ground. He'll get up, but it's a small victory Shawn will never forget. He runs over to him and kicks him as hard as he can in the ribs before he can find the strength to rise. He clenches his toes inwards as he kicks so that he can hurt Chet even a little. It's very hard to kick someone with no shoes on. He kicks him in the head, taking a chance to spit on him while he lies there.

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S PATHETIC! YOU MADE MUM GO AWAY! YOU MAKE EVERYTHING A FUCKING NIGHTMARE! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST HURRY UP AND DIE?"

Shawn's out of breath. He takes this opportunity to kick Chet in the face again, clenched toes and all.

"OH NO..." he screams sarcastically, "I'VE RUINED YOUR UGLY FACE!"

Chet lies there coughing and begins to crawl.

"I didn't know you had it in ya boy" Chet coughs out, as he tries to get up.

Shawn runs up to him and punches and kicks him in the back, so he'll fall again. It nearly doesn't work.

"SHUTUP! DID I SAY YOU COULD TALK? I..."

Shawn trails off. He sounds like, he sounds like Chet. Chet sees the realisation in his face and takes advantage of it.

"Oh god, no" he whispers. "Anything but that..."

An evil smile plasters across Chets face.

"Ya see son, we're not all that different are we?"

Shawn doesn't reply. He's lost the anger and a new fear has entered his mind. What if he ends up like his father? But no, anyone would do this, after all Chet has done to him, it's only right that he should get a little revenge. The thoughts still creep into his head though. He tries to shake them away.

"No...no, I'll never be like you, you're evil, you're just..." he's interrupted by a hard blow to the back of his head.

Everything begins to spin around. He falls to the ground. The trees seem so tall. They look as though they could reach up and grab a star from the sky. He feels himself about to black out as he blinks away the darkly shadowed figures standing all around him.

"Crazy little fuck up, don't worry though, we'll fit him in somewhere, there's still...an hour left..."

He'd almost made it. He curses himself for his actions. He could have avoided it all; he doesn't really have time to think about it too much though. He blacks out.

-------------------------

Hey and here we are - todays instalment over. Oh and it was a nice thought to post lots of the same reviews to get my story to the 100 review mark, but it doesn't really give me the erm, satisfaction of earning them ...that sounds stupid but yeah. Anyway erm, yeah, thanks for the reviews so far though...they're all great.

Well you know where that button lives, pay it a short visit, it might be lonely : ) See-ya for now. Cesca, x


	16. Chapter 15: The Broken Hero

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 15: The Broken Hero -------------------------

Shawn awakes to the sound of soft whimpers and cries. He focuses his eyes and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He'd been lay on the floor. There are gloomy young faces all around him. Kids; some older than him, some younger, but all boys. They're all stripped down to their boxers like him and have small tags tied around their necks with their names on. He wonders why they aren't ripping them off, but they look as though they'd be pretty hard to pry off - it's possible of course. He looks down at his chest and finds there isn't a tag attached to him. He also notices that his hand has been patched up somewhat with a bandage, and he is wearing new clean boxer shorts. The room is dull and discoloured, with draping wallpaper hanging off the walls and a small dreary light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Where...where am I?" he mumbles, shifting up more comfortably.

"I don't know" a young voice replies.

Shawn blinks away his confusion and lifts himself up with his arms crouching.

"What?" he asks softly, turning his head.

"I said, I don't know where you are, I don't even know where I am" replies the young boy sitting beside him.

Shawn tries to hold back a yawn, but it escapes and he looks around him again. It's quite a small room for so many children and is rather cramped.

"Oh" he says as he remembers the same kind of patterns on the walls as there was in the hallways, only evidently more jaded.

He turns around to look at young boy who had just spoken to him. He has sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He only looks to be about nine or ten.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"I'm eleven in March" the boy replies.

"Have you been here before?"

"No..." he moans, "I'm scared"

"Do you" Shawn sighs. "Do you know why you're doing here?"

The boy shakes his head. "Not really...I don't understand..."

Shawn can see by the look of naive innocence and unknowing fear in the boys eyes that he has never experienced what he had. He can see the same innocence in this boys eyes that he once held in his own.

"...I was at my uncles house, asleep..." the boy begins, "...And then he came in, he took my pyjamas and he said we were going on a trip..." the boy continues.

"...He said...my pyjamas needed cleaning, it all made sense at the time, I don't understand. Do you know where we are?"

Shawn stares at the floor. He don't want to burden this innocent young boy with what he knows. Even though he'll find out soon anyhow. He lowers his head slowly.

"No. I can't remember..."

"You...you look kinda, really hurt, what happened to you?" the boy asks, he sounds concerned.

Shawn glances back up at the boy.

"What's your name?"

"Jake" he mumbles, "Erm, what's yours?"

"Shawn"

Shawn looks towards the door. It's the waiting game now. Its only a matter of time. He looks around for any other sign of escaping. It doesn't seem as though there is one. He looks back towards Jake and smiles sincerely. Jake looks back at him with a wary expression on his face.

"We're not here for something nice are we?"

You got that right kid. Shawn shakes his head slowly. Jake doesn't ask any more questions; maybe he's too afraid for the truth. Really though, how much can this naive kid know about what is going on here. Only Shawn doesn't even know whether he does or not. He knows a hell of a lot more than this child though.

"What are your parents like?" Shawn asks, changing the subject precariously.

Jake shrugs his shoulders, and fidgets with his hands. "They're okay I guess, they're just parents...they ground me when I'm bad, and they love me, well are proud of me when I do good..." Jake looks up from his hands. "What's wrong?"

Shawn raises his eyebrows. A small tear makes its way down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly and smiles again; trying to reassure this kid that he's okay. He was smiles at how this kid probably has nice normal, loving parents who are nothing like Chet.

"Nothing kid, I just, I was thinking about something...nothing important" he replies.

Jake nods. "Yeah" He coughs a little. "I know I'm only ten and everything, but I can still tell when something bad is gonna happen, I wanna know but I don't, ya know what I mean?"

"Yeah, yeah, I getcha..." Shawn nods again. "I err, I just, like I don't wanna be the one to tell you what's going on here, it'll cause you pain, I hate being the one to cause any kind of pain..."

There is a look of mixed emotions stirring in Jakes face; that of confusion, that of fear, and a little of sympathy. He gulps.

"...I'm gonna find out either way"

Shawn glances at the ground, now also fiddling with his fingers, wondering how to put into words the extent of the pain this kid is gonna have to go through. He looks back up at Jake.

"Do you know what sex is?"

"Ye...ah, I know a little" he replies.

Shawn stares at the ground while he's talking. He doesn't want to see the look in the kid's eyes when he realises what is happening.

"Do you know what rape is?"

Jake shakes his head, signifying a no. "Not really. I know it bad."

Damn-it, Shawn thinks to himself, this is gonna be even harder to explain.

"Well, rape is when someone makes someone have sex with them, a man can rape a boy and a man can rape a girl..." his voice shakes a little, but he dare not look up. "Some people. Bad people. They erm, they use people who don't know any better, kids, like us, just kids, they don't care...they just, well, they sell them sometimes, to other people like them, people who don't care what the kid is going through, people who just..." He realises he's talking about himself and stops. "That's what you're doing here. That's what I'm doing here. They get money for us being here. They get money for us being raped..." Shawn sniffs and clears his throat. "...By men... Do you understand now?" he asks.

When he doesn't get a reply he looks up from the ground. Jake still looks confused and hurt and scared all at the same time. Does he understand?

"Are...are you okay?" Shawn says.

Jake snaps out of it and screws his eyes a little, finally looking up into Shawn's face.

"Ehr" he's breathing heavy. "Why do, why do people do that, it's horrible, it sounds horrible..." he trails off his voice now shaky and disturbed.

"I er, I don't know, some people are just perverted I guess, I really can't tell you why people do this shit, it's a mystery to me.. I suppose they're just really bad people..."

"Oh my gosh..." he cries, "have, have they ever ya know, done it to you?"

Shawn lets the shame glow in his eyes as he forces a slight nod, holding back the tears.

"I just, ya know, I didn't see it coming and now it's too late.."

His eyes wander across the room trying to avoid contact with Jakes. 'Why is life so fucking messed up?' These questions won't help him though. 'It's like saying why am I still here?' He can't answer both the questions. Wait a minute. What's that? Is that a window? These questions might be of some kind of use though. Shawn notices a small window, a third of it hidden behind a shelf. He quickly glances around the room. The only people that are there are people who don't seem to want to be there. Only young boys.

"Wait a minute," he says out loud and he makes his way to the other end of the room.

Jake, who seems to have fresh tears streaking his face, gets up and follows. "What?"

"One moment" Shawn mumbles.

He curls his fingers around the side of the shelf and drags it to the side until the small window is revealed.

"Look!" he states, placing a hand on Jakes shoulder. "Could you reach this, if you climbed?"

Jake nods. "I think so..."

By now Shawn has gathered the attention of the whole room. He looks over the sea of miserable faces and then turns back to Jake.

"I don't think anyone else will be able to fit through that window, you're the only one this small...when you get out, tell someone about this place, make sure these people get help...you have to go quick...you could be next... Make sure you're not seen..."

Someone from the back, who looks about Shawn's age, pulls a chair up against the door to prevent anyone unwanted from entering the room. Shawn sends them a look of appreciation before he reaches out to grab a part of the shelf and climb up onto it until he's face to face with the window. Outside, there didn't look like there is much going on, there are no people around. He looks back down to Jake.

"Don't stop running until you get as far away from this place as you can. Don't stop for help from someone until then...go to a shop, a public place or something, just don't stop... there seem to be many people who are in on this whole thing..."

"Okay" he nods, putting on a brave face.

Shawn brings his remaining clench-able fist up to the small window and pounds it into the glass as hard as he can. At first nothing happens but after the fourth or fifth hit, pieces of glass come crashing to the ground. There is a little blood leaking from the newly cut wounds on his right hand and wrist, thankfully no veins or arteries are slit. He jumps down from the shelf as fast as possible.

"Go!" he cries quietly.

By now there is a pounding at the door. Jake climbs onto the shelf and reaches out towards the window frame, his only exit from this decrepitly morbid place. He looks a bit wary at the shards of glass still lying in the way of the it and Shawn stares at him, praying that he'll make it, but thinking about how dumb it is sending this kid into such a dangerous situation. Like he isn't in one already though.

"You can do it!" Shawn reassures him.

Jake looks back one more time nervously before licking his lips and dragging himself through the small window. He cries out in pain a little as a small piece of glass digs into his legs on the way out. The pounding on the door is even harder and louder and there are screams of profanity and threats coming from behind it. Shawn drags himself up onto the shelf again until he can see out of the broken window. He watches as Jake disappears down the stone path.

"DON'T FORGET ABOUT US!" he screams after him, moments before the door bursts open.

Shawn sighs. It was a dumb thing to say. How can he ever forget what had happened tonight? How can Jake ever forget? A small smile spreads across his face as he hears a faint: "I won't!" coming from down the road. He'd saved this kid from losing one of the most important things he had, something Shawn had already lost, and could never get back, but in doing so he felt strangely like he was saving himself.

"What the fuck is going on in here!"

Seeing the blood on the window, the blood on his hands and the fact that he didn't see anyone going after Jake, Shawn reaches his right arm through the window and leans forwards to stick his head through as well. He makes like he is struggling to get out of the window until he feels hands wrap around his waist and try to drag him down. He wipes the smile off his face, turns and jumps down. An unknown man, lanky but still quite fearsome looking stares back at him. He screeches into the crowd of young boys another time.

Shawn knows what he had to do. He lunges forwards and makes his way towards the older man.

"Let me out of here! Why does the damn window have to be so fucking small?" he cries, acting like a crazed lunatic as he stares into the mans face.

There are two more men behind him. One has ginger hair and is a little meatier looking with broad shoulders and stubble. The man to his left has a large stick in his hands and is wringing it around in his fingers trying to look rough. Shawn doesn't really care though.

"Let me the fuck outta here!" he screams in the ginger guys face, spitting as he does so - also trying to appear tough.

The ginger man begins to laugh, then he turns to the other two men and they begin to laugh as well.

"You...you tried to fit through that window!" one of them comments in-between laughter.

They all burst out laughing again, laughing harder this time.

"It isn't funny!" Shawn says angrily. "None of this is funny..."

They all stop laughing, but they've still got huge grins plastered all over their faces.

"All right whatever... you're not going anywhere kid,. Well actually you are, but I don't know about now" his grin grows even wider.

Shawn gives them a scowl and turns away from them. He can hear them whispering to each other for a few moments and then one of them shuffles around the room looking at certain name tags. One of them pulls a small walkie-talkie out from their back pocket and talks into it.

"Matthew to base, come in. We've got a broken window in the main room. Can you send someone down with some nails and those wood planks in the supply cupboard right? Over."

Shawn can't believe how bad and bizarre his life has become - this new world, this disgusting, degrading, unbelievably bad new world that he's never known about before, but seems to have existed for quite a long time. People scraping kids together to make money out of them. People probably kidnapping kids, extortion and rape, and everything seems to be controlled by this Karl Finch man, but what if it goes higher than that. They don't seem to be afraid of threats to call the police. What if the police are in on it too?

"This one" he suddenly hears one of them say.

"No, please, no, I'm not meant to be here..." he can hear one of the boys pleading as he's being dragged up and towards the doorway. It's like animals being sent to the slaughter. It chills him to the bone and chokes him up inside.

It's obvious why they have tags. It's not as if they'd just give up who they really are, having the knowledge of their so-called fate. He listens as more pleading and begging continues and more spirits are dragged away. Then there is more whispering and he can feel eyes on him.

"Well, he's the only one who doesn't have a tag, it must be him..." he hears.

He feels around his neck just to make sure they're talking about him. He doesn't remember ever having one on and he doesn't really want one on until now.

"Jake?"

Shawn turns around. They can't find out Jake isn't here.

"Yes" he replies.

They all snigger.

"Your time has come my friend," the ginger guy says with a smirk.

Shawn doesn't need to be dragged away; he walks straight towards the men and towards the door. Just as he reaches the door, a boy, maybe a little older than him reached out towards him, and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"You're a hero man," he says in a whisper. "You're a real fucking hero..."

-------------------------

So what do you think? I know it's been ages, but as you know I was busy...It isn't tooooo long, but I hope its alright for you all... yup the review button has missed you.

Later ppl... Cesca, x


	17. Chapter 16: Inside His Head

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 16: Inside His Head -------------------------

The more he thinks about it the more he feels like a dirty pathetic whore. He knows it isn't his fault, but still there is this eerie hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach that just won't go away; it keeps repeating over and over again about how he's nothing...nothing but this, nothing but what is about to happen. The minutes pass like seconds and soon he's standing in a small dim room about to walk out there in front of seventy-five, maybe one hundred people all waiting for one thing. Sex. Not sex. Rape.

He'd seen Robbie on the way here. Disappointment written all over his face as he passed by. 'You stopped?' he'd asked desolately. 'I had to' Shawn had replied, the regret and pain evidently shaking in his voice. Then that was it. He was dragged off down another ugly twisted corridor and Robbie disappeared from his view. Rape. He's sick of the word. He's sick of everything; the hits; the rape; the miserable nothingness that is his life...

"That's not Jake Folinder you idiot, that's Shawn Hunter, Chet's boy."

Karl Finch - the very man who had introduced him to this new and terribly dark world stands just metres away from him and the other three helpless boys that had been taken. He is arguing with the ginger haired man.

"Well how the fuck am I meant to know, he was the only one without a tag, and we couldn't find this Jake kid!"

Finch stares angrily at the other man pointing a finger at Shawn every few seconds and calling the other guy names.

"And why the hell is he bleeding!" he questions.

The man looks at him dumb struck. "He erm, he smashed a window, ya know the small one you tried to hide behind the shelf. He was trying to get through it...without much luck" There is now a smirk on the mans face again.

"You could hardly fit a ten year old through that window, never mind a teenager, and I know Shawn isn't that dumb I've seen him with his father and the way he reacts to things...do you know how old this Jake kid is?"

The man shakes his head warily.

"He's ten you fuck up, the youngest and smallest kid we got here, in fact he's the only one here tonight who's not a teenager. One kid ends up smashing a window too small for him to get out of, and another kid, the smallest kid in the room goes missing, what do you think happened?"

A total look of dumb found realisation slaps the guy in the face. He shrugs his shoulders. "The kid got away..."

"Exactly..." Finch pauses for a moment. "Look - there's nothing we can do about it now, but if this kid goes and tells someone important about this place we're fucked. You got that? We're fucked!"

The man gulps, the smart ass expression torn from his face.

"I'm sorry man, I didn't know.."

"Yeah, yeah, just get this kid up there, we have bidders waiting, just put Shawn Hunter up now, okay? And don't screw this one up, make sure we get a high bid, we already lost one kid tonight and you can usually get a better price for the young ones..."

Shawn doesn't want to listen, but they're so close to him, he can't ignore what they're saying. He feels totally disgusted and now, on top of everything, here he is about to walk out in front of all these people to be sold off to the highest bidder. He has to force himself not to puke.

"Walk!" the ginger guy says.

He sounds quite pissed off and nudges Shawn with the back of his hand roughly as he pushes him forwards. Shawn stares at the floor as he walks out in front of the mass of people. He's afraid of looking up, because he knows they're all staring back at him.

"And here we have Shawn Hunter, Fourteen-years old, and very well trained..."

He stops listening after that and tunes out. He is merchandise. Why the hell should he listen anyway? He's nothing but a thing. He isn't a boy with a life and a future anymore; he's just a thing, a thing to be sold.

They'd stopped talking about him by now and the bidding has begun. Shawn dares to look into the crowd. He feels even more disturbed when he sees that not only are there disgusting perverted men, but there are women also. He's never thought about a women raping him... it sounds even worse, because at least he could say he'd still not popped his cherry so to speak and also, mostly because he'd always seen women as motherly figures - not as one of those among these monsters, and it occurrs to him that they can be everywhere and anyone. All the women there look to be at least over thirty-five. Maybe they won't beat him though. About ten, fifteen of the people there are women bidders.

"£1200 to the man with the blue tie over there, any bids against £1200 ladies and gentlemen?"

The bidding is still going on; it has reached what sounds like quite a large amount.

"Do I see $1300?" the ginger man questions into the crowd.

"$1400" a tall man with long dark greying hair from the front row calls.

"$3000" a woman near the back interrupts.

"Ah, $3000 to the lady in the black gloves, do we have any more advances?" he says with that same smirk on his face.

"Anyone wanna raise the stakes?" he repeats.

The crowd looks quiet and still. No one seems to want to bid more than $3000. More than twice the amount originally specified to be sold to the previous bidding competition.

"Right then, sold to the lady in the back for $3000!"

Shawn doesn't even realise it's over until the ginger guy begins pushing him towards the room he had come from just moments before.

"Where am I going now?" he asks.

The man doesn't reply at first.

"Where are..." Shawn begins again.

"Where do you think I'm taking you. You've been sold boy, for the next two days you are property of Ms. Love..."

"Ms. Love, what kind of name is that, if she's here to rape kids then she should really think about changing her name."

The ginger guy grins. "Well now, if we all used our real names here, a lot of us would be seeing the inside of a prison cell for the next ten years, wouldn't we?"

Shawn becomes quiet at this realisation. The irony of a pervert being called Mrs. Love doesn't really appeal to him. He should have known that was a false name; everything around here is false and pretentious.

"So... what about that Matthew guy with the walkie talkie... that not his real name?" he questions.

"Oh, Yeah, I mean no, it isn't.. hurry up!" the man says in a frustrated tone of voice, pushing Shawn forwards more.

They walk through more hallways until right at the end of one hallway Shawn can see a woman, leaning over a desk; Her leather smothered fingers cling to a pen as she finalises some papers. Shawn begins to tense as they approach her and just as they reach her she looks up from the papers and straight into his eyes; she smiles. It sends icy chills running up and down his spine.

"Well, everything seems to be in order now" says the man behind the desk. "Now here are your chains to keep him in order...and it is recommended that your purchase is locked in the boot of your car for safety purposes, that of your own and of his..."

God, how is all this shit possible? Shawn then recalls the claim that fact is stranger than fiction; scarier; depressing, that's definitely right. They were right, nothing makes sense, everything is strange and fiction seems like a completely normal reality in comparison.

Before he knows it, there are chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles and it's extremely uncomfortable. The metal edges rub against his ankle as he's led into the garage he had escaped from just a half before; it burns and itches. The only people there with him are the ginger haired man and the eerie woman with the black gloves.

"Get in!" the ginger guy orders as he lifts open the car boot.

At first Shawn refuses, even though he knows there isn't any point in doing so.

"I said GET IN!" he raises his voice considerably.

Shawn backs away from him; he doesn't want to go back in the boot of a car, not again.

"Well trained hm?" the woman mutters, finally saying something.

Shawn looks at her in disbelief, before dodging a slap from the ginger guy. This only angers him further and he lunges forwards at Shawn. Shawn throws his arms back and then flings them forwards as the man get closer. The chains whip around and make a loud thudding sound as they make contact with the ginger mans face, wrapping around him.

Shawn's so scared that he doesn't know what to do. All he knows is that his arms are wrapped tightly around the mans neck and he's tugging them toward himself; he's choking him with all his strength. He can see now that the ginger guys face has begun to turn a darker shade of red and is beginning to turn a more purplish tint. The man can't breath, but he knows that if he lets go that's it. His freedom is over and he'll once again be nothing but a disgusting little rent boy. He's slowly killing the man, but in a way he likes it. He has the power, he's not the victim any more, the ginger guy is. He can claim a little vengeance.

He lets go.

He's in shock. He doesn't want to be that. He doesn't want to be anything like his father, but for a moment he felt like he was becoming him. Killing this man will do nothing to help him. He isn't even angry with him in retrospect to all the other villains in his life. That will just make him as bad as them and he is nothing like them. It was just fear, and anger and guilt and regret and just plain vengeance that brought him to this position. Everyone snaps sometimes right. He didn't kill the man, because he's kneeling on the floor right now coughing and spurting and sucking up as much of the air as humanly possible.

"Don't touch me!" he hears himself spit out.

"Well the chains come in very handy don't they?" the woman's chilly voice comes from behind him.

He goes to turn around but before he does a throbbingly striking pain vibrates around his skull and darkness pervades him again.

-------------------------

"Oh... My head" Shawn whispers as he yawns and opens his eyes.

He's sick of waking up with a strong head ache and little knowledge of where he is. He attempts to lift his hand up to run it through his messy tangled up hair but something holds it back. He tries to let his eyes adjust to the darkness all around him. He can't see a thing though; wherever he is, it's pitch black. Cold metal digs into his wrists as he tries unsuccessfully to stand. He's chained down to something. He feels his wrist with one of his hands until he can find the chain.

Shawn feels along the chain until he comes to some kind of metal loop attached to a wall. He tugs at it as hard as he possibly can, but it won't budge. He feels cold, so very cold. He's still wearing only a pair of boxers. It seems like this night will never end. He's already been knocked out twice, but he's avoided a beating or anything too violent. He feels rather proud of himself for that at least, but it won't save him now.

He sits, back to the wall, with his legs sprawled out across the cold floor. It smells dusty. He sneezes from the rising dust spiralling in the air. Some day he'll really lose it. Maybe he has already. He had already hadn't he? But some day he'll really crack, and not even Cory, his best friend, or the all-knowing Feeney can save him then.

Suddenly there's a loud echoing crack from behind him as a door opens, smacking into the side of the wall. Light floods the room and finally Shawn can see his surroundings. Only as soon a he does he wishes he were sat in complete darkness again. The walls are rotting and scratched, and chains hang from everywhere. Painful looking sex toys hang from the walls and a table, also with chains attached to it, stands in the middle of the room.

"Oh God..." Shawn mumbles in shock.

He looks towards the door and the woman standing in its way.

"Well, well, nice to see you're finally awake" she says, grinning darkly.

"Why, why are doing this to me, it's not fair..."

"Life isn't fair!" she interrupts, her grin widening.

Shawn sits quietly, staring at the pale concrete. There's no point in talking back. He notices a rather large rug in the centre of room beneath the table and pillows scattered across the floor.

"What you don't seem to get, young man..." she spits as she speaks and walks forwards, down the steps leading up from the doorway down toward him. "...Is that I own you. You are now my property and there is nothing you can do about it!"

There is a short period of silence before Shawn finally decides to break it. He glances up from the floor for a moment and looks the woman right in the eyes.

"Oh no..." he replies sarcastically, "Yep. I got that loud and clear... What you don't seem to get Ms Love..." he laughs at the thought of her imaginary name. "...Is that, you can do whatever you want to me right now, but in less than 48 hours this will be over, and I can go straight to the police and tell them all about your little pervy doings..." he's staring at the wall behind her as he finishes. If anything he won't give her the satisfaction of fear or tension.

Will he really tell the police all this or is it just some lame attempt at saving his own skin? Either way it won't work because he had let one huge flaw ruin his attempt at an easier time with Ms Love. You see, he had said: 'I can go straight to the police', not: 'I will go straight to the police', implying that he isn't very serious about going to the police, thus revealing his weakness. He was never going to go to the police, he'd never be able to face what's happening to him, but most of all he'd never admit what's happening to him to anyone.

The woman laughs. "Oh really?" she says cockily.

"Yes. Really." Shawn restates bluntly.

She is now standing right in front of Shawn. The chains connected to his wrists clang as he draws his arms up towards his head again.

"I fucking hope you don't have kids lady" Shawn says. "I can see you winning the worst mother award."

"Oh really" she repeats. "Well what does that tell you then?"

Shawn doesn't reply. He'd try begging, but it never seems to work. He remembers Robbie's words: "...When they come for you...the highest bidder...go to another place, another place inside your mind, anywhere but there". Is that possible? Can he just forget about the dreary disturbing room, which walls he chained to? Can he just ignore the frightening woman with her deadly toys hanging all along the walls as she edges closer and closer towards him; Or will the pain always snap him back to reality and the torment he is about to endure?

Maybe it's safer inside his head. Maybe he'd be better off hiding there, and never coming out. What reason can he possibly have for returning to the dismal hellhole that is his life? So yeah, that's what he's thinking about; he's thinking about living inside that messed up head of his. Shutting out all the fear, all the humiliation, his social life, school, he even considers shutting out the one person that has kept him from really listening to that voice in his head, you know the one. The one that says: 'Go on, do it, show the world you don't care, just end it, kill yourself and let them all be rid of you and you of them'. Cory. Yeah, he even considers blocking Cory from this little world of his; this world inside his head, a world where he can have parents who love him, where everybody is friendly and nice and where he doesn't have to hide his poetry because of its harrowing profundity.

He doesn't know it yet, but the woman has already reached him and she's chaining him to the table in the middle of the room. He doesn't know it, because he isn't there. So maybe it is possible; Maybe he can escape, but can anyone rescue him or is he doomed to spend the rest of his life, living in this imaginary world? Maybe he's better off there...

Shocks of pain bring him back to reality every so often, but he only sees the bleak walls, his hearing muffled and his view cloudy and unfocused. He'll see the chains surrounding him for a moment, and then his eyes stare into nothingness and he's back in that place. The only place he can call home, because home is somewhere you consider safe. If that is true, then the only place he has to call home is inside his head.

--------------------------

Okay then...what do you think? I know I've taken sooooooo...long to do just this one bit, but every time I went to write some, things got in the way, and I've been at this film summer school thingy from like 10 in mornin to 4 recently, and been tired, so not in mood to write, so I been writing like a paragraph at a time, and then my sis needs to go on the comp, blah, blah, ya know how it is, but I promise you I will get the next chapter before the end of this week, and see, I have to get it to you now, cause I hate breaking promises... anyways, I just kinda wrote a load of crap, I dunno if its okay or not, I'm kinda setting some things up for later on in the story, so things don't just suddenly get complicated...not that they aren't right now lol, ya, I'm going on now, but feel free to review, even though I've wrote like a bit in so long...Cya for now, take care. Cesca, x


	18. Chapter 17: On The Edge

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 17: On The Edge -------------------------

She's gone and now it's pitch black again. He feels dirty and in need of a hot shower. He feels a tingly kind of weird. It's a kind of weird he's never felt before. He feels disgusting. She'd had sex with him, and he'd liked it. Except he doesn't remember what had happened, he just has that feeling where he doesn't need to remember it to know what happened, to know what she's done; he just knows.

He sighs. 'Well, that's it. You're no longer a virgin in the matter of sexual intercourse between a male and female' he admits to himself. 'There's nothing left now... they've taken it all from you'

At least he can't remember it, and the pain; it isn't as bad as it had been before. She's definitely done something to harm him physically though; he can still feel the after effects of whatever she had done.

'Okay Shawn, what would Cory do?' he asks himself. Cory isn't such a good example in this kind of situation, but he's the only person Shawn now looks up to and trusts. He rests his head against the wall and lets his arms slip to his sides.

"C'mon" he whispers aloud. "Somebody help me...please". He stretches his hands further out across the ground. As he does, one of them rubs up against something sharp. He yelps and jolts his hand back. What was that?

He checks his hands for any injuries. After finding no cuts or scratches he decides to reach out for whatever had caught him off guard the moment before. His hands trail across the floor again, until finally, with little effort he finds the object. He cannot see it, but by the feel of it, it seems to be some kind of tool.

'It's most likely one of Ms. Love's twisted toys' he reminds himself; and then it hits him.

This isn't just some sick toy; this could be his means to freedom. He trails his fingers along the side of the walls again until he reaches the chain attaching him to it. He grips the tool tightly with his right hand. As soon as he reaches it, he raises the tool into the air and brings it down as hard as he can into the wall where the metal loop is attached to it. He hears the scrape of the metal as it hurtles into the wall. The loop is still attached to it and he's still chained to the loop.

He tries again, smashing it into the wall repeatedly until finally, after tugging at the small loop, it slips out of the wall with ease. For a moment, he just stands there in shock. It worked; it actually worked. He doesn't know exactly what to do next, but he knows he has to think of something quick, because he must have made quite a bit of noise with all the banging and smashing he'd been doing.

He drags at the chains and pulls out from the binds on his wrists. He's free of the chains, but he's not out there running away. How's he going to get out?

He feels around until he feels steps. He drags the chains around with him for protection possibly. He remembers one time, one time when his mother and Chet were arguing. He couldn't have been more than eleven-years-old, and they were screaming at each other and then Chet turned around and whacked his mother so far across the room, he'd thought she might break into a million pieces. She lay there on the floor unconscious for two, maybe three hours before Chet went out and Shawn could go help her onto a bed and tend to her injuries.

He doesn't know why he's thinking of this, but it just seems to slip into his mind. He recalls thinking at the time it was happening, no, swearing to himself that he'd never hit a woman. Only now, he's seen a different side to them, there's no difference in the evil that men could confine to women. Moreover, this woman, she'd been tormenting him just like any of the other abusers in his life. What is he supposed to do? She deserves a lot worse than a smack to the face. She certainly doesn't deserve his respect. She used him, she abused him, and she doesn't give a damn about how much she's hurt him.

He stands at the door, to his knowledge his only way out, having felt his way up there. He can hear faint footsteps beyond the door. The chains still lye in his arms. The footsteps become louder, until they stop outside the door. He can feel the tension and fear building up inside him and then suddenly, the door swings open. He jumps out of the way just before it can slam into him. Only he dashes back into position as the same woman that had violated him earlier steps back into the light of a hallway.

Before he knows it, he's out into the hallway of this creepy house. He stares at her for a moment, wondering what he should do next. He drops the chains still draped in his arms. The woman goes to scream like the coward she is, but before she can, he grabs a hold of her. He wraps his arms around her throat and tightens his grip on her.

"You think you can do whatever you want to me?" he spits.

She tries to splutter something out, but she can't because Shawn is choking her, just like he was the day before, or however long ago he had been locked down there for.

"HUH?" he screams even louder.

He's breaking his promise. He's hurting a woman. Only this woman deserves it. This woman is no better than his good for nothing father. Tears form in his eyes, as his grip around her throat tightens still.

"Just tell me something would ya, what drives you people to need to hurt us, just kids, we've never done anything to hurt you, what the FUCK makes you all that evil! ANSWER ME!"

He squeezes his arms towards himself even tighter, and his arms shake.

"ANSWER ME!!" he screams again.

But she can't answer him, because now she isn't there either. She lies limply in his arms. Shawn continues to scream and shake her lifeless body though.

"MOVE DAMN YOU! MOVE!" he drops her as he finishes.

Her body falls to the ground. She's dead. She has to be. There are red marks digging into her throat. Shawn stands there in shock. So this is what it's like to kill someone. He'd expected to feel glad. She's gone. She'd deserved to die. Only he doesn't feel glad. He feels even more miserable, guilty even.

"Why'd you make me do that?" he sobs.

He stands on the edge of sanity and he's just become a murderer. He needs to get out of there. So he begins to run. He runs down the hallway and frantically looks around for an exit.

He supposes this is what starts some serial killers on their killing sprees. They get to a point in their lives and then they finally realise, once a person is dead, they can't hurt you anymore, and then the fear just disappears because you're the person they're afraid of. It's so simple, but it feels kind of right at this point. Only if you're the person they're afraid of, then you've kind of become them, and if that is true, he really must be becoming his father. And after the first few bad guys, it must become so easy that they continue until they're making up excuses and it isn't even bad guys they're killing anymore. The shock of the fact that he might have turned into his father makes him stumble as he finds the front door and swings it open.

He's worse than his father now. He's a murderer. Before he could live with the hurt and the pain, but he how can he live with himself being the one inflicting the hurt and pain. It's so complicated. One moment he's himself. The next he sees no one there but Chet. Promises don't matter any more. It's harder than he thought, because he'd liked it, even though there was the obvious guilt, he'd liked the fact that he'd never have to fear this woman again and this scares him more than anything else. This means that if he could do this and some part of him like it, he's easily capable of becoming one of these cold blooded killers, who just put an end to everyone who gets in their way. The kind you hear about on the news or in thriller movies.

He runs down the road. He sees a sign saying 'Morton Road' as he turns a corner. Before, the only person whose life was on line was his, but now anyone is. 'But no!' he argues with himself, he only did what he did in self-defence, in pain, in anger, in revenge...she deserved it right? No, no, he isn't going to go on some random guilt ridden killing spree because he isn't like that, he hadn't mean to do what he did. She had just pushed him too far. He would never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it...

He's talking crazy; thinking about hurting people. How can he do that? How can he when he knows that pain, riddled with more pain, would only cause even more devastation? Maybe because doing nothing and just letting the pain come, it never helps, but doing something, killing, had taken away the fear and set him free, physically anyhow.

He can feel everything slowly slipping away from him, his sanity; his dignity; his integrity, but most of all the honesty he always knew he had within himself. Something they could never take away from him; but they had and every time he thinks it can't get any worse than this, something happens and it does. What does he have left? Cory. That's it and if he doesn't do something right now, he's going to lose the only thing he has left.

The question 'How can a murderer be honest?' buzzes around in his head. 'Well, he can't be, he's a murderer. He could be honest about everything and still murder, but he wouldn't last very long on the outside world...'. This has to be the lowest point in his life. It's an all new low, even for him. He feels angry, they'd all driven him to this. It isn't his fault and now, he'd probably spend the rest of his life in jail because of what they've all done to him.

It was the anger. It's tearing him up inside. He knows it, but what can he do now? It's too late for him to feel sorry for himself. It's too late for him to tell someone what's been happening. He's a murderer; a murderer; a murderer! It doesn't sound any different every time he plays it in his head, but he can't get it out of his system. In the end he finds himself staring up a random police station, wondering whether or not to go in. Maybe he should tell them everything, before he does something else he regrets. That's the thing though, a part of him doesn't regret what he's done.

People are starting to give him odd looks now. He must look a right state. The chains have left red marks around his wrists and previous beatings still painfully stain and scar his skinny form. A policeman walks out of the station. As he turns his head, he spots Shawn standing there. There are obvious streaks of tears blemishing his cheeks. However, more obvious is the fact that he's standing there, in broad daylight wearing nothing but torn up, bloodied boxers. This time the blood a result of something "Ms. Love" had done to him.

"Are you all right son?" the police officer says in a sympathetic caring tone.

Shawn's feet seem plastered to the ground. He wants to run but nothing happens. He even wants to tell this man that he's okay, and he can just leave him alone, but that doesn't happen either, because a part of him doesn't want to lie anymore.

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" the man asks. "Do you need some help?"

He can't answer because this could be his climax; This is where it can all end.

"Come on son..." he's right at his side now, wrapping an arm around Shawn's shoulder. "Come with me..."

That's when the signals he wants to send to his brain finally begin to work and he's out of there so fast, he could probably race a bullet, even despite his pained body and weakening muscles. Whether or not the policeman was going to help him or put him in jail, he hadn't cared. He has to find Cory. He just has to.

-------------------------

Hey there...hmmm, hope you like this chappy, I know its depressing, but sometimes you have to get through depressing times, lol, before we can get to the happier ones. I know, poor Shawn, he's really having it rough aint he... aw, i'm sorry, lol, anyway, reviews ya, thank you so much, I cant believe so many ppl actually reviewed this story, hehe, thanks again and keep reviewing :D I'm gonna go now, but I will update more frequently now, I swear. Ze week is not over till after Sunday, so I made it within a day! Yay me. Laters. Cesca, x


	19. Chapter 18: Runaways

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 18: Runaways -------------------------

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

Shawn wanders the streets for a short while, thinking, trying to figure out what to do next. He can't think more than five minutes into the future, his future.

"Oh yes deary... Are you not cold?"

It's like any plans he'd had, anything, plans with Cory to go to the cinema, a school trip, all that has been erased and he can only think about now, not the next week, or the next day, or even an hour into the future. Only that he'll be crossing the road in the next few seconds, and only what he can see ahead of himself. Only that he's talking to someone at this particular point in time.

"Oh, erm, a bit" he replies.

He'd stopped an old lady on the street, and asked her for the time. She holds her wrist up towards him.

"There you go young man," she says benevolently

She squints as she talks to him. She looks like she's going blind. It amuses him somewhat how she's wearing a watch, yet she can hardly see it clearly enough herself. He imagines her stopping people on the street and holding her wrist up to them, asking 'Can you tell me what the time is deary?'. For a moment, he forgets he's a murderer.

"Take this, young man..."

She waves a ten-dollar note in front of him.

"Oh, no, it's alright lady, you don't need to give me money..." he mumbles, surprised at this offer.

'I don't deserve to be given money, I'm a murderer.' He then thought to himself.

"No, I can see you need this a lot more than me deary, go on take it, and get yourself a jacket or whatnot..."

Shawn sighs and takes the note from her.

"Thanks" he says.

Maybe people like her restore what little faith in humanity he has left, but it can't reinstate the faith he'd once had in himself. She's right though. He does need the money and desperately. He needs a jacket. He can't go to see Cory wearing just a pair of torn-up discoloured boxers. He turns around to say thanks one more time, but the old lady seems to have already gone. "Oh well" he mumbles to himself and then he carries on down the road.

-------------------------

Shawn stares up at John Adams High. He'd have to wait outside, he can't go inside there with just a pair of boxers and the cheap jacket he'd bought from the nearest charity clothing shop on the way here. He sits down at the front steps of the building. What is he going to say when Cory comes out? Will he tell him all about his mistreatments and how they pushed him to commit murder or would he just end up creating another web of lies? All he has to do is tell the truth.

"The truth shall set you free" he mocks aloud.

"Will it?" a slightly familiar voice rings in his ears.

He looks up to see the girl he'd bumped into some days before. He doesn't know what to say though. He wasn't expecting to see her and after his little encounter with the woman who he had been sold to, he isn't as comfortable around them as he used to be.

"I, I..." he stutters just a little.

"I'm Claire..." she holds out her hand to shake his.

He looks at her hand stretched out towards him. He shakily raises his arm to shake it. For a moment he sees a purplish tinge to her skin disappearing under her sleeve. She pulls her arm away and sits down next to him.

"And you are...?"

He stares at her. It's almost like the other day, but so much has happened since then. He kind of relaxes against the warmth of her body next to him though. She seems to have a kind of calming effect on him. She raises her eyebrows with a questioning look.

"Ah, oh, my name's, I'm Shawn" he finally blurts out.

She smiles at him serenely but her eyes seem unfocused and troubled. She reaches her arm up again, and stretches her hand towards his face. Shawn doesn't know what to do, so he just ends up turning his head away.

"I was just wondering, what happened to your head?" she asks, a little embarrassed that he'd turned away from her, but still concerned.

"Huh... What?" Shawn mumbles, unsure of what she's talking about.

"Your head - It's bleeding..."

"Oh" he runs his fingers across his forehead. She's right, he is bleeding.

"I just got in a fight" he replies.

"With who?"

Shawn looks at her intently. "Just, a kid from school." he says warily.

"Oh" she replies. "So the other guy won then?"

"No. What would make you say that?" Shawn replies a little unnerved.

"The fact that you're sitting here with no pants on and you look pretty much beat up..." Claire trails off somewhat.

"Yeah" Shawn replies, "I guess that would make sense"

"Would it?" she says contently.

Shawn sighs. "So, are you okay after our little accident the other day?"

"Yeah, I'm fine and dandy, you?"

"I'm good I guess, well good might be going a little too far..."

"Wow, I didn't know you fell that hard..." she says, a little sarcasm sparking in her voice.

Shawn falls quiet after this. He looks up at her, giving her a small smile. He wonders whether she can tell how forced it was.

"So..." she begins.

She rolls her eyes to one side trying to think of something to say.

"...How was" she mumbles. "...never mind"

"What?" he asks, curious as to what she was going to say.

"It doesn't matter, really"

"Oh, c'mon, you cant just start a question and say 'never mind' without telling me what you were gonna ask."

She inhales heavily. "I was just going to ask how your weekend was."

Shawn runs his fingers through his hair. "Oh"

"I told you it doesn't matter" Claire repeats gazing down at her feet.

"No, one moment, why is asking how my weekend was such a big deal?" Shawn says, now wondering if she knows something about him she shouldn't, and then the question of how she could know anything at all enters his head.

"Erm, I just, I mean, you don't look like you've had a very nice one, and I didn't think you'd want to talk about it and it just kinda slipped into my head and... I don't know, erm, but I need to stop myself before I start really mumbling 'cause I cant think of any more to tell you..."

She looks somewhat out of breath by the time she's finished.

Shawn lets a small laugh escape his lips and smiles again. "You're funny."

Claire smiles too. "Yeah. I seem to get that a lot."

"How was your weekend then?" Shawn asks.

"Well, it was okay I guess." she says not so ardently.

"Yeah, same here. Not such a great weekend for me either" he adds.

Claire nods. "Don't ya just hate it when people have a certain opinion of you and it's just totally untrue?"

"Random question, but yeah, I guess I do. You mean like.. say a person is framed and everyone thinks they're bad, but really they're good?"

"Something like that" she replies faintly, glancing around at her surroundings.

"So how come you're not in school?" Shawn asks.

"I don't know, I was gonna go inside, but I just, I didn't feel like facing everyone. They're faces annoy me." She laughs, "Then I saw you sitting here all alone, I remembered you, and I thought you'd like the company"

"You rebel you... thanks though" Shawn says sincerely.

He is a master of hiding his feelings. He'd had to learn how to though, to keep himself from getting found out, to keep himself from getting into more trouble. Inside he feels absolutely awful, guilt ridden, and crushed, but on the outside, he can smile and even laugh to a certain extent. This girl, this innovative, sweet, funny and unbelievably cute girl seems to make him feel a little better though.

"No prob..." she replies. "...Hmm, I guess the bells going to go off in a few minutes then."

"I guess so," Shawn responds.

Claire looks up towards the sky for a moment and then back at Shawn.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this... Maybe it's easier because I don't know you, but I was running away. I mean I'm going to run away, I just kind of came back here to get a kind of good-bye, I sound like Holden, ha..."

"Who?"

"Are you not writing about JD Salingers 'The Catcher in the Rye' in your ninth grade English class?"

"Oh, yeah we are... I just mustn't have read that far yet..." he trails off shyly.

Claire smirks, "Its on the second page."

Shawn laughs. "Yeah. Did I mention, I've only read the title?"

"Ah, that explains it." she laughs lightly. "Well anyway I'm really running away..."

He doesn't really know what to say to something like that, in reality he'd thought about running away so many times it had made his head hurt.

"Really? can I come?" he replies, half joking.

Another side of him really wants to go though. Another side of him is totally serious. He wants to run away with this girl and run away from all the shit and baggage in his life. He'd never get a chance to run away with someone like this again. She lets a small giggle escape her lips.

"Yeah, sure..."

He wishes she were serious. He doesn't want her to leave. Ever since he'd laid eyes on her he'd known that he needed to get to know her - to be her friend or maybe more... Only he definitely isn't ready for any kind of relationship, not with all that has happened and he isn't sure if she likes him anyway or even if he wants her to. Then again, if she doesn't like him why would she tell him such a personal thing? 'Cause I'm a stranger' he reminds himself. Suddenly he doesn't feel like staying here and waiting for Cory.

"You wanna go somewhere else?" he says abruptly.

"Yeah, why not"

Shawn stands, making sure Claire can't see beneath his jacket.

"Ouch" he mutters as he stands on something sharp.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just stood on something, comes with the whole not wearing shoes thing"

Claire nods. "Yeah - why is that?"

Shawn shrugs his shoulders.

"They took my shoes" he replies.

Claire drops the subject, slings her bag over her shoulder and begins to follow Shawn as he walks on in front.

"Where are we going?" she asks, curiously displayed in her face.

"Somewhere I used to go when I wanted to get away from everything, ya know when I was just a kid..."

"You still are," she mumbles as Shawn quickens his pace.

He's trying his best to walk normally, but he still walks with a limp; This being the effects of being raped repeatedly. After a short while, they reach some place where there is fencing stretching all around it and a sign saying 'AREA OFF LIMITS'.

"You any good at climbing?" Shawn questions.

"Yup. I'm pretty good. I think."

Shawn curls his fingers around the wired fencing before pushing himself up and slipping the ends of his feet into the small holes, to climb further and further towards the top. It's somewhat painful on his bare feet. Claire soon follows. Before long, they're both standing inside what seems to be a small park; A children's play area. A tatty old climbing frame and a bench is all that remains of the small withered park.

"You used to play here." Claire says.

"Yeah, well kind of. Before they closed it. I think it's pretty dumb really, two kids, twins, went missing about 3 years ago and ever since then they closed it off to people..." Shawn shook his head. "...I mean, kids go missing everywhere, but you don't see people closing every park they go missing near do ya...you could go missing anywhere"

"I guess so" Claire responds, slightly confused.

She sits down on the wooden bench; the paintwork has begun to rot. Shawn follows and sits down beside her.

"I used to sit here for hours..." he says. "...Just sit here and watch all the other kids playing, It made me kind of happy for a moment when their mums or dads started playing with them, I guess I kinda imagined myself as them and what'd it'd be like... I don't know, it sounds dumb.. "

Why he's telling her this, he doesn't know. Maybe it's the same reason she'd told him about her runaway plans. Maybe it's because she's a stranger too, and oddly enough, he feels comfortable talking to her about these things. To say the least he feels some kind of connection with her, but that kind of stuff always sounds corny in his mind.

"No" she says, "It doesn't sound dumb at all."

He looks up at the old climbing frame. The last time he'd looked up at it, he'd only been a child. It's getting harder all the time to remember what that was like. The climbing frame is now old and weathering away and it suddenly occurs to him that like the twin children that had disappeared three years earlier a little of him is disappearing and if he doesn't do something about it quick he'll be the one to weather away. Then there'd be nothing left, but rust. Moreover, he has a sudden urge, a sudden need to tell someone about everything.

"Can I tell you something...only I haven't got anyone else to tell?" he says, dropping the lies.

"Sure.. to be honest I don't have that many people in my life who I can talk to either" she replies, moving slightly closer to him as she does so.

Shawn looks away from his surroundings and turns towards her. Only when he begins to talk he ends up staring down at his hands and trying to force the scrambles sentences out.

"I've never told anyone this before..." Which is true - Mikey had just found out from his appearance, but he'd never actually told anyone of all that had gone on behind his fathers closed doors. "...Maybe it is because you're a stranger and maybe also 'cause I don't know what I'm gonna do if I don't get this out my system and tell someone..."

He pauses and looks up at her again. "You have to promise not to get freaked out by it, please..." he says, his voice almost shakes with beseech.

Claire nods her head. "I won't. I promise, I've no one to tell anyhow" she answers softly.

"I wasn't in a fight... my dad, he's not a nice man, and my mum, she left about four months ago, she couldn't handle our home life..." This is it. He's really going to tell this girl the truth. He can't lie anymore; there are too many lies. "...Because my dad would beat her, and he would beat me as well and..."

Tears are starting to form in his eyes now. He can't hold them back. There is a huge lump in his throat. It makes it harder to talk, but he has to. It's now or never.

"...Ever since she left it's been even worse, anything I do or anything I say he'd be like 'Are you disrespecting me?' and then he'd beat me senseless, ya know, sometimes I didn't even have the strength to crawl away so I'd just have to lie there on the floor for hours..." He's almost sobbing now. He wipes away any falling tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "...Then one day he comes back, and I thought he was drunk and he was going on about how I should be in bed at that time, but I couldn't because the night before he'd thrown up all over my bed. And then he got angry and told me to turn around and I could hear him taking his belt off, but I thought he was just gonna whip me with it, I thought he was just gonna belt me..."

He takes a short intake of breath and rubs at his eyes even more. Everything is finally coming out. The hardest part of this would be telling of how he is a rent boy and all the things that had happened to him, but now he's started he can't stop.

"...Only he doesn't, he starts talking about this guy he'd seen on the streets, selling himself for... sex" Images of the nightmare haunt him in flashes and he buries his face in his hands. He hasn't really looked at Claire the whole time he's been saying this and he dreads her reaction. "And then he raped me..." He can't believe he's actually told her this. But when he looks up at her face, he knows it had to be done.

"Shawn, I'm so sorry" she says sympathetically. "I eh...I don't know how painful that was for you, but I want you to know, I don't think you're a freak just because of something your father did to you, you don't think you're a freak do you? Cause it's not your fault..." she's almost crying herself.

Shawn nods. "He always said I deserved everything I got, but he's, I mean I don't believe a word he says..." he manages to control his tears for a short while, holding onto that great big lump in his throat. It really hurts now.

"He made me..." he looks into Claire's eyes this time. "He made me be a rent boy, I tried to run, but he was too strong, he'd strip me down to my boxers and force me into the truck or I'd be knocked out, either way I'd be awake when it finally happened... So then I'd find myself in this weird room, some guy would come in, some perverted bastard, and there was no way out...and they'd have me all night...it hurt so bad, you can't imagine how bad it hurt, and the shame..." More flashes of that room and what went on there enter his head, and he can't control the tears again.

He's completely crying now. Crying more than he'd thought he could. He buries his face in his arms and cries into them. He can't say anything more. It hurts too much, going back to those memories, and back to that room. Then he feels arms stretch around him and he can hear Claire's soothing voice as she pulls him into a hug. He normally won't let anyone hug him, but this feels different and safer somehow.

He cries into her shoulder as she holds him. The lump in his throat begins to cease and his shaking calms. Claire guides his head onto her lap, and him into a lying position on the bench. He's still crying shakily. She strokes his head gently, trying to relax him a little, while pushing a few strands of his hair behind his ears. She reaches her other hand towards Shawn's hand and entwines her fingers with his. At first he jumps at the act of compassion, but after a few seconds he squeezes her hand back, to show a sign of thanks, while greatly trying to control his breathing and crying at the same time.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she almost whispers. "Nobody deserves to go through that much pain, you especially don't look like you could ever deserve such a thing..."

Shawn Shivers. There's no one around, but it still feels weird to be lying there on the bench crying in broad daylight. Yet with Claire being there, he kind of feels like he has more reason to live.

"Did you, I mean are you going to tell anyone else about what happened to you?" she asks as his crying calms a little.

"No" he sniffs.

Claire sighs and there is a short moment of silence.

"You wanna come with me?" she asks.

He doesn't say anything straight away. He kind of lies there with his eyes closed, as though he has not heard what she's said. He's so tired and aching. What does he have to stay for; Mikey, no, he can't go back to him after what he'd seen him doing. He doesn't have any family to stay for, sure he has Cory, but you can't base your future on one person. Can you? Maybe if you were deadly in love and true he and Cory are as close as anyone, but still, the pain isn't worth it.

He'd always thought Cory was the only one he could really talk to, he just never told him about the bad stuff, because he didn't want to freak him out. Where as with Claire he can tell her stuff and so has finally told someone what he's been through. Also he has to get away from here because in his mind he's on the run anyway. He's still a murderer. Claire realises it's a very big decision for him to make and continues to stroke his head gently.

"It's okay, I understand..." she begins.

"No" he interrupts, "I wanna go with you... there's nothing keeping me here anyway."

-------------------------

Hey people.

Sorry for taking so long - I went to a theme park yesterday, Thorpe park, i dunno if anyone has heard of it. Was kewl, had to leave at 5 in the mornin' to get there for when it opened, and dint get back till ten, so was pretty tired, plus was busy with stuff...ah, results day tomorrow, GCSE Results!!!!!!!!!! Hmm...I hope I don't fail everything...I say it again, ah...anyway, how are you all? Hope you're doing fine. If anyone else is getting results tomorrow, good luck!

Hope you like this chapter, finally finished it - Reviews make me happy, lol, they also encourage me to write more interesting and lengthier and more frequent chapters... hehe, ya I gotta go now, but thanks for all the reviews. I've wrote about 100 pages on this story now, wow, doesn't seem like that much but ah well, tis kewl. Later, xxxxxx

p.s. I can't believe I'm 16, I'm so old now...hmmm...hehe


	20. Chapter 19: Road Rage

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 19: Road Rage -------------------------

2:00pm, Wednesday 8th June 1994

-------------------------

Both Shawn and Claire stare up at the thirty something year old man who looks to have not shaved in a couple of weeks and in the first place doesn't seem to be very good at it.

"That depends... Where you going?" Shawn questions warily.

"Lil' place called Indianola, Iowa" the man replies.

Shawn feels a little uncomfortable around this man, though he's not quite sure why. He sniffs at the air. He can smell the fumes rising from the back of the truck. Something doesn't seem quite right either way. Claire looks to the side and glances at Shawn's face for a moment. They'd been travelling along the same dirt road for about an hour and half, and the sun burns down upon their backs. She steps forwards, not wanting to wait another hour for the next person who would give them a break. Hitchhiking isn't as easy as it looks. They had spent a little money on a few buses, but they had decided on saving the rest, after all they never knew when they might need it.

"Well, hop on board little lady..." the man says, his husky voice grating on each word. "Where you guys heading then?" he repeats.

Claire brings her foot up to climb the step up into the front seat of the truck, but Shawn's hand wraps around her arm stopping her, only gently, but enough to tell her, 'we're not riding with this guy'.

She turns her head towards him with a sigh, giving him a small nod. He lets go of her arm, and she puts her leg down.

"Sorry for bothering you" she says to the man.

She opens her mouth to say something like: 'Hitchhiking with strangers is dangerous, we need to go home', but that sounded like such a dumb and plainly childish thing to say, so she just closes it and turns back to Shawn.

"Suit yourselves" the man says dryly and then slams his truck door closed.

They watch as his truck disappears down the dusty highway, its engine rumbling all the way. Shawn itches at his hand, wrapped with a now soiled bandage. He tries to ignore it.

"What was wrong with this one?" Claire says somewhat frustrated, as the truck finally disappears down the steep parts of the road ahead.

Shawn gives her a look of disbelief. "You couldn't see it?"

"See what?"

"The guy was a total perv!"

"You say that about half the people who stop for us!" she says, getting even more frustrated.

"Well, half the people who pick hitchhikers up are perverts, why do ya think they pick em up, out of the goodness of their hearts? Listen, I know what I'm talking about, and that guy" he points down the empty road. "That guy right there, something wasn't right about him." Shawn sighs. "I know its kind of hypocritical a thing for me to say, but you know how many people go missing or get something bad happenin' to them because they got into a car or truck or whatever with a stranger... and I bet they had the same attitude as you..."

Claire rolls her eyes. "I know, I just, well it's just we've been walking for ages and, and there's two of us, usually hitchhikers go missing when there's just one person, all on their own...what's the likeliness that we'd both go missing."

Shawn laughs. "You're funny..."

Claire screws her eyes up a little like a small child who hasn't got their own way. "What?"

"Nothing much, it's..." Shawn replies. "It's just, you come across as this really wise girl for your age, wiser than me, and then you go and say 'Oh there'd be two of us, we'd be safe" his voice then takes a more serious tone, from the slightly high pitched one he'd been using a moment before. "Look, it doesn't matter if there was three, even four of us, we'd still never be safe - no one's safe in this world. It's a cruel, evil place, and you can't afford to be naïve..." He ends with his eyes glued to the sandy ground and the six dollar shoes they'd got from a charity shop the week before.

"I know... I'm sorry" she says, sounding quite down.

"You just gotta be more careful, you can't afford to be a child about these things,"

She stares away from him. "I know... I just suppose you shouldn't assume everything about me, I mean, I'm not wise - I'm not wise at all. I never claimed to be. I wish I could be, I wish I weren't an annoying little girl, and I wish you hadn't finally gone and seen the real me...this quickly... it's pitiful. I mean, I am. Wishing gets you nowhere though, I'm sorry... and I don't want to be pitiful, I don't want to be pitied, because that implies that I deserve sympathy, but how could I? I mean, I bring everything that happens to me on myself. You, you're so strong, and you never once deserved what you were given, I admit that I feel sorry for you, that's not why I like you, but I do feel sorry for you, because you deserve pity, you did nothing to deserve any less than that... and I'm sorry I was so childish, I'm sorry I'm going on this much. I'll shut up."

She stares at her feet, holding back tears. "I just don't like to cry. I have no right to."

Shawn feels breathless. He hasn't seen Claire so vulnerable before; so childlike. He feels bad, and finds himself drawn to her, walking slowly. They both have a lot of problems to sort out... but they can make it, at least as long as they have each other. He tries to convince himself of this.

"Everyone has a right to cry" he says, taking her hand in his.

"I'm...sor...ry..." Claire says, her voice cracking with sobs.

She can't help the way she feels, ashamed of every sob which escapes her throat, of every tear which evades her eyes. Shawn pulls her into a hug. She cries into his chest as quietly as she can.

If there's anything you need to be sorry for, it doesn't concern me..." he lifts her face up, so she's looking into his eyes. "Claire... I was wrong, you are wise, just in your own little way, I guess we both are." He smears the tears from her eyes with his thumbs, his hands loosely cupping her face. "You're not annoying, never to me, you can be naive, but hey, we all are. Stop worrying, I could never think bad of you."

He feels bad for making her cry.

"They say..." she sniffs, still resting in his arms "...that relationships where a couple or two people" Sniff."...argue with each other are the strongest ones, because it means...they're honest with each other, ya know, they don't just agree with everything each other says..." She trails off on that last word.

Shawn smiles, "Really. So we have a strong relationship do we? We're a couple, are we?"

She gives him an uncomfortably uncertain expression.

"I know what you mean... Well... I mean, I'm not quite sure, I suppose I wouldn't mind..."

A shy look spreads across his face. He doesn't want to rush anything. He's scared to let himself get that close to someone. It won't hurt as much when they leave. Claire actually means something to him though. She isn't just a quick make out girlfriend with the brain capacity of a beach ball.

"Oh, you wouldn't mind. Ladies and gentleman we have enthusiasm" Claire says, feeling a little more laid back.

Shawn lets a small laugh escape him.

"You know what..." she begins again. "Never mind. We're young. We don't need to make things more complicated than they already are... and I can understand why you wouldn't want to go out with someone right now, I mean well, you know, with everything that's happened lately. We're only fourteen and we'd probably need to spend more time together anyway, get to know each other more before we decide on something like that...I don't know about you but you seem like one of the most special things that's ever come into my life and I'm not gonna rush things and mess everything up, I'm just glad to have you as a friend, anything more would be heaven..."

"Heaven?" Shawn comments, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

"Much corniness?" Claire raises one eyebrow herself.

"Uhuh." Shawn replies, on the verge of laughter.

"Ah well, sometimes life is actually corny, I mean the movies had to come from somewhere, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose, but anyhow we gotta carry on down this road, Mrs. Hunter" he says. "Come on darling; don't keep me waiting here...Heavens just over the horizon..."

Claire shakes her head with a giggle and begins to chase after the now jogging Shawn.

"Bet you can't catch me..." he shouts back to her.

"Me too..." she cries back, the back of her legs straining as she lifts off in each sprint.

-------------------------

It wasn't long afterwards until another vehicle stopped for them – this time a red corvette, its driver being a woman in her late twenties, her long auburn hair almost hanging down to her waist. She has seven distinct freckles on each cheek, almost symmetrical in position. Her calm green eyes rest upon the image of the two teenagers, sitting on the dusty ground ahead of her. It isn't normal for kids to be so far out here with no transport but that of their own legs.

Shawn and Claire rise to their feet as the oncoming car nears. Claire begins to stretch her arm out, her thumb sticking up, but the car had already come to a halt, just metres away from them. It isn't usual for someone to stop for them without a wave of a hand or a thumb sticking up, so they aren't too trusting of the inhabitant of the car. Shawn takes a step forwards towards the car, dust rising from its resting place. The car door opens with a suddenness that makes him jump.

"What do you want?" he says quickly and loudly.

"I'm just curious as to what a couple of kids of your age doing way out here, all on their own" the mild and soft voice responds, as the woman it belongs to pulls herself from the coolness of her car and out into the searing sun, her knee high leather boots resting upon the road.

"We're hitchhiking. What does it look like?" Shawn answers suspiciously.

"Well aren't we a defensive one." The woman replies, stepping forwards twice.

Shawn rolls his eyes. "Look, if you're here to mock us, you might as well get on your way."

"Alright, alright, I just thought you guys needed help. Sorry I bothered you both..." she takes a step back towards her car.

Shawn sighs. "No stop, please. I'm sorry I was rude, okay. We do need help…we've run out of water and you're the first person to come by in a half hour…"

"Ah, so what was wrong with the last guy" she says.

"How'd you know he was a guy?" Shawn questions.

"Female intuition…" She replies. "He seem like a creep?"

"Yeah… you can't take chances with these people"

"Uhuh. And what makes you think you can take a chance with me, I could well be a... creep."

Claire just stays stood behind Shawn, watching the goings on in front of her.

"You may well be, but I very much doubt you'd do anything to us" he answers her.

"What, cause I'm a woman?" she asks.

"No" he says defensively, his voice rising. "I mean, no, don't worry, women can be just as awful. I know that for sure."

She gives a snort of amusement. "Oh really, sorry for the misinterpretation..." she says peering round Shawn at Claire. "Hi there."

"Hello" Claire says timidly.

The woman smiles. "Look you two, if you want a ride I'll be happy to give you one as far as you need to go before we go our separate ways, okay?"

"Okay." Shawn replies. "Th…thanks."

Shawn looks back to Claire. "What do ya think?"

"She seems alright, and we do need a lift."

He motions his head forwards for her to follow him and then moves towards the corvette. Claire follows him sheepishly. The woman opens the back car door for them and they slide into the back seat.

"Thank you" Claire speaks softly, as the woman closes her car door.

She gets into the car herself, sits back and starts the engine. Shawn breaths in heavily and then sits back himself, letting his body relax. He hopes this woman can take them quite far, he's sick of worrying about who's going to stop for them next.

"So, you kids know hitchhiking is really dangerous don't ya?"

"Yeah. We know" Shawn replies in a mumble, "If it wasn't a last resort we wouldn't be doing it."

"My name's Candy by the way."

Shawn looks up, "That cause you're so sweet?"

"Indeed." She replies, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice.

"So…" she begins again. "Where you guys from?"

"Philadelphia" Claire responds with a small smile.

"Really… you two are a long way from home then…" she says. "Running away?"

Shawn gives Claire a quick glance. "And what if we are?"

Candy raises her eyebrows and Claire stares out of the window, watching the thin grey trees pass one by one.

"Well" she says humbly. "I wish you all the luck in the world children, you're gonna need it, 'cause the world aint an easy place to live in and the streets aren't kind to homeless runaways…"

Claire sighs and yawns. "The streets aren't kind to anyone."

"True" Candy agrees and then she glances at them both through the rear view mirror of her car.

The buzzing of the air conditioning blows clearly in their heads, and everything else seems to be quite still and quiet. Claire yawns again and turns to Shawn, giving him a sincere smile. He smiles back and reaches his right hand out towards her. She takes it and squeezes his fingers lightly, then she lifts her hand back up to cover her mouth and yawns again. They'd gotten hardly any sleep in days. Candy grins at the sight of them in her mirror again.

"Here" Shawn says in a soft voice. "Lie down."

He pulls at the sleeves of his inky coloured jacket and takes it off. He folds it up into a pillow shape and places it on his lap.

"Get some sleep" he says with a sniff and a smile.

Claire looks back at him with grateful eyes. "Thank you" she says.

She turns to Candy first though. "Can I lie down please?" she asks.

"Sure honey, go right ahead, just make sure you slip your shoes off if you're gonna put those feet up."

Claire nods. "Thanks"

She places her shoes under the seat in front, and then lays her head upon Shawn's lap. "Thanks" she repeats, as her eyes close, and sleep begins to take over. He lightly rests his arm upon her shoulder and watches her sleep. His attentive eyes gazing down at her. He watches her sleep for God knows how long, she's so beautiful that he can't keep his eyes off of her.

"We're not far from a service station if you wanna get some food and drink" Candy whispers, disrupting him from his gaze.

He nods his head, but doesn't make a sound, not wanting to disturb Claire from her sleep. He doesn't know what he's feeling because he's never felt it before. He's never felt this feeling about someone before, a funny tingly feeling in his stomach that won't go away; a feeling that vibrates around his body, jerking at his heart strings and his soul. His eyes find themselves resting upon her neck and for the first time in days he remembers his life before they'd run away, and the memories of choking the woman to death, his hands tightening and squeezing and tightening more and he feels worthless again… knowing that he doesn't and never can deserve Claire. But no matter how much he doesn't deserve her company, he has it anyway. He blinks and snaps out of his trance like state. He pulls his finger from his mouth, where he'd been chewing on his finger nail. It's now bleeding and raw and it stings. He forgets about the pain though and stares down at Claire again. He wants to hug her, just to make sure she's really there. He doesn't though.

'How could she think she doesn't deserve me' he thinks to himself. 'Because maybe she feels a lot like I do.' He looks down at her again, smiling at the sweetness of her face and its position. She lies there still, and in a deep sleep, now with her thumb partially hanging from her mouth. He doesn't know she sucked her thumb in her sleep, and he wonders if he should tell her he knows or not. It might cause her some embarrassment. Although, if she knows he doesn't see it as a bad thing, that he doesn't think any less of her for doing such an innocent thing she might not mind. He smiles down at her again. 'She's sweet' he thinks to himself again. '...sweet and beautiful' And he never wants to make her cry again.

-------------------------

Hey there, I now declare this chapter finished. Hehe :P I hope you like it…. I think I've lost half my story's fans 'cause I haven't got any reviews apart from, from blondenbeautiful + SunRise19…the most dedicated of fans, I thank you. But ya I'm sorry I took so long… please come back :( sniffs Anyhow. Everyone take care now, and review if you wish. Thanks,

Cesca, x


	21. Chapter 20: Infected

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 20: Infected -------------------------

"Claire?" Shawn whispers while one of his legs hangs out of the parked car.

She doesn't respond.

"Claire" he repeats louder. "Wake up… I've got drinks and food"

She had woken up somewhat when he'd left the car to get what they needed from the service station, but she must have fallen back asleep pretty quickly afterwards. Candy is outside filling the car up with fuel. He'd noticed that candy kept looking at him a little awkwardly.

Claire's eyes flutter and open. She yawns and sniffs, her teeth feeling odd and her gums aching, probably because of the fact they had both not brushed them in a couple of days. Her throat feels dry and longs for the relief of a fresh cold drink. She sits up and yawns again.

"Hey" she says, smiling, her eyes half shut. "What time is it?"

"One sec…" he mumbles to her. "Candy?" he shouts, leaning a little outside the car door. "Can I have the time please?"

She looks up, breaking from her concentration. Claire listens from inside.

"Sure honey" Candy says turning her wrist and lifting it up towards their faces. "It's 4 o'clock"

"Thanks" both Shawn and Claire state at the same time.

The laugh awkwardly at each other.

"Here" Shawn says, reaching out his arms, which hold a grocery type bag full of potato chips, quite a few bottles of soda and water, bread, a large jar of P & J and a half dozen chocolate bars. "I bought us some food from the service station, and some drinks"

Claire sits up properly and smiles at him. "Thanks"

She takes one of the drinks from him, and takes a big gulp from the bottle.

"Thirsty then?" Shawn smirks.

"Yup" she says nodding her head when she finishes taking another swig.

"Right kids. Time to get goin''' Candy interrupts.

"Kay" Shawn mumbles.

She starts the engine and the car begins to grumble forwards, out of the parking space and backwards out of the parking lot.

"You kids want the radio on?" she asks.

"Sure" Claire says. She turns to Shawn. "You?"

Shawn nods his head. "I don't mind."

Candy turns the radio on. 'EVERYTHING I DO, I DO IT FOR YOU…" The Bryan Adams song blasts away at the highest volume. Shawn and Claire clamp their hands over their ears, and Candy rushes to lower the volume and keep control of the car at the same time. She finally gets the volume down without breaking any bones.

"Sorry guys" she says. "I err, must have gotten a bit carried away with the music before I came across you"

They both look at each other. "Yeah..." Shawn responds.

Claire laughs shyly and Shawn's lips form a small curve, and he half smiles at the softness of her laugh. The song begins to fade, and a special news bulletin comes through on the radio.

'…A middle aged woman was found in critical condition last Wednesday, after being attacked by an unknown assailant. She is now on life support…and doctors are unsure of whether she will survive…'

"Bastard." Candy retorts.

'That was about the day I killed Ms. Love' Shawn thinks to himself warily.

They continue to listen to the report.

'…What's more shocking is what was found in the woman's house, just metres from where she lay. It appears she had been keeping a home made dungeon in which she held her captors. DNA evidence has been taken and police are working on the case, meanwhile we are only to wonder what she could possibly have done to deserve her attack…'

Shawn sits back, his mouth almost hanging open in shock. He is the unknown assailant.

"Didn't expect that." Candy then comments.

Shawn feels sick. Critical condition. So he isn't a murderer yet, but he still could be in the end. He can feel the blood draining from his face, and a cold rush fall over him.

"Shawn?" Claire says, troubled by his sickly appearance. "What's wrong?Are you okay?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Shawn?…" Claire repeats, but her voice dissolves along with the image of her face in front of him as he faints and darkness swallows him, like it had many times before.

-------------------------

"I think he's waking up…"

"Shawn. You were out for almost two minutes."

He blinks. He hears the voices, but he doesn't want to respond. He'd never fainted before. Claire won't understand why he had fainted. He hadn't told her about Ms. Love and the happenings of that day, so how could she? He closes his eyes for a short period of time, wanting to lie back down and sleep.

"Shawn, how do you feel?" Candy asks, seeming to be beside him, in opposition with Claire.

"Okay…" he mumbles.

"Oh, thank god" he hears Claire state, her voice drowning in relief.

"They always think they're fine... Hey, what happened there?" Candy asks.

Claire helps Shawn up. He has his eyes open now, and is in a sitting position.

"I just felt…a little weird" he replies softly. "I don't feel that bad now"

He notices Claire's glazed over eyes staring, and anxiously glistening back at him. She knows there's more to this than just feeling 'a little weird'.

"Don't do that to me again, okay?" she says, sighing still with shock filed yes.

"I won't." Shawn answers.

Candy glances at the two with curious eyes. She's never come across a pair so young on their own and quite like them before.

"Well kids, if everything's okay, we best get going again." She says, opening the back car door.

She slips out and hurries round the side of the car to the drivers door.

"Put your seat belts on" she says, sliding into the drivers seat. "Shawn…you can lie down if ya want"

Shawn shakes his head. He can' be bothered sleeping. Ever since they'd run away he'd been having these terrible nightmares. It's like without all the beatings and other such things happening to him his dreams were taking their place. He looks ahead, and sees Candy staring back at him in the mirror, like she's trying to work out something about him. She looks away when she sees him looking in her direction.

Shawn yawns and ignores her. He leans his head on the glass pane of the car window and counts the passing trees. He almost jumps when Claire places a hand on his shoulder.

"You feelin' any better?" she asks apprehensively, her warm smile easy on his eyes.

"Yeah" he replies, but really he feels quite shaken.

He catches sight of Candy's stare in the mirror again.

"What is it?" he asks, suspiciously. "Have I got something on my face or something like that?"

"No" she responds. "I was just wondering what happened to your hand?"

Shawn looks down at his left hand. The bandage he'd secured to it some days before was beginning to fall apart. It ached but he feared taking it off. It hurts like hell, but he hadn't wanted to make anything of it. He can't afford any food or bus money, or even the bandages without Claire. She's spent her precious saved up money on the both of them. He'll never forget what she's done for him. She barely knows him, yet she's there for him.

"I fell over and hurt it" he says. "Why?"

Candy stops the car again and turns towards Shawn.

"Because, I've been watching you, and I think it's infected" she pauses. "Can I see it please?"

Shawn's heart skips a beat. She might think it a little odd that he virtually has a hole in his hand and hasn't had it treated. He hesitates and moves away from her a little.

"No, it's not, I'm fine." He replies.

"Look honey, if it is infected, the infection could spread and the worst possible out come is that you die. Now I don't wanna see that happening, do you?"

"You're bluffing." He retorts.

"You want me to get my medical book out?"

He's puzzled as to what to say. He doesn't want to die and he isn 't sure whether she's lying or not. He'll have to risk it.

"Look kid, I'm a nurse. I know these things"

"You're a nurse?" he says disbelievingly.

"Yep… What's with the look?"

"Nothing. It's just, you didn't seem like the nursey type…" he trails off, thinking about how stupid that comment actually sounds.

"Oh right" she replies with a laugh and an amused expression on her face. "I suppose I might not fit the stereotype… but ya know stereotypes are eight times outta ten wrong. Now let me have a look at that hand..." She reaches out and pulls his arm towards her gently.

"Ah…" he winces and squeezes his eyes shut.

Candy lets go.

"Sorry… but that's definitely infected."

Shawn sniffs. "So what you gonna do about it?"

"Well, that depends on how bad it is. You'll probably have to go to a hospital…"

"No... No hospitals." He states defiantly.

"But Shawn, if you don't have someone have a look at it soon, it could get a lot worse"

"I'd rather die than go to the hospital." He says, getting annoyed.

He'd been sort of irritable lately, especially with this Candy woman. But she's only trying to help. She looks a little shocked and confused at the same time.

"You can do it. You're a nurse right? After all you 'know these things'" He gives her a pleading stare.

It's quite pushing his luck. This woman doesn't know him or Claire and she's doing them a favour by taking them so far.

"Why are you so afraid of going to a hospital?" she asks.

"Both my parents died… in a explosion, that happened in a hospital" he lies.

She doesn't say anything. He knew that would quieten her. Claire gives him an odd expression and then looks towards Candy to study hers. Her mouth forms a kind of sympathetic curve and shock reflects back in her eyes.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your parents, but Shawn, if you're really hurt you have to go to hospitals… that's a serious phobia you got there…"

"It's okay if you don't wanna help me, we'll just get out of your way" he says, and then glances towards Claire. "Come on."

"Thank you" Claire says to Candy lightly and then follows Shawn as he pushes the car door open and slips out.

Candy sighs and watches them a moment. "Wait"

Shawn looks back.

"I'll help you… but if I can't you have to go to a hospital okay?"

"I can't make any promises" Shawn replies.

Candy sighs again. "Well, okay. Just get back in, I'll see what I can do."

Shawn smiles at her. "Thanks Candy. You're the best."

He nods his head towards the car, to signal for Claire to get back in. His sudden change in appearance startles her somewhat. However, he's only trying to get them help, so she thinks no more of it. She climbs into the car again, the car door still open from when they'd been getting out.

"Better get this over and done with then" Candy says.

She pulls the front seat of the car down and presses a button. The ceiling of the car begins to move towards the back and disappear, and then its just them and the burning sun gazing down. Candy takes Shawn's hand as gently as she can. He has an urge to pull it away from her, but he doesn't. She carefully unwraps the bandage from his hand. He twitches every so often, and cringes at the pain. Finally the bandages have all gone. Candy looks a little surprised at how much damage to his hand there is.

"Did something impale your hand?" she asks.

"Erm, yes…a nail" he replies shakily.

"Yeah, it's definitely infected. One sec…" Candy turns and rummages through a large black bag with a white cross lying to the left of her.

"What is it?" Claire asks.

"I'm just getting something to ease the pain." Candy responds.

"Oh" Claire utters.

She pulls out a cotton bud and some kind of liquid in a small bottle. She Soaks the cotton bud in a little of the liquid and then lays a hand under Shawn's.

"This might sting at first…well, it definitely will"

She dabs the cotton bud onto his sore.

He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut again.

"It'll go quite numb in a minute" She tells him. "Don't worry, you'll thank me when this is over..."

"I know." he forces through clenched teeth.

She waits. Watching the hands on her watch turn.

"This may still hurt though, quite a bit, but not as much as it would if I hadn't numbed your hand… It's tried to heal up, and there's a lot of puss that's trapped inside. I've gotta make an incision in the wound and squeeze it all out."

Shawn's face turns somewhat pale and he feels sick all of a sudden.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital?" Candy questions.

He exhales deeply and nods. "Yes, I'm sure. Go ahead. Get it over and done with... please"

"Okay." She mumbles and then reaches inside the bag once more.

She pulls out a pair of plastic gloves and slips them on. Then she takes another small bottle out of the bag.

"What's that?" Shawn asks curiously.

"This" she says, holding the small bottle up. "It's to make sure the wound is clean when I've finished, so bacteria can't start up again. It isn't a certainty, but it'll help. You know, you're gonna need antibiotics after this."

"I can manage fine without em" Shawn responds quietly.

He'd been infected by the nail in the forest; infected by the bacteria living on it and any other germs that had come into contact with his wound afterwards. His hand is bulging with puss. It makes him cringe to think that it's been in there all this time, infesting and growing. It makes him want to throw up. Of course that isn't the only way he'd been infected that night, he'd also been infected with his fathers hatred, now his own hatred. Somewhere deep inside of him it's bubbling away, waiting to burst out of him in ways he cannot control. Building. Building. Building.

"Put this in your mouth" Candy says, holding out a belt. "And bite down on it, if it hurts…"

Shawn stares at the belt for a moment and then takes it, placing it in his mouth. "Go" he mutters through the belt.

Candy holds a sharp needle like looking thing above Shawn's wound. She had sterilised it just moments before, while Shawn had been thinking. She then pierces the skin where the sore is. As soon as she does a thick mouldy yellowish fluid oozes from the opening. Tears spring to Shawn's eyes. It isn't the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's still very painful and rather gross. He sniffs and tries to hold the tears back.

"I have to squeeze it all out now, Shawn. If I don't it'll come back, and you'll have to go through all of this again."

Claire sits ready with a box of tissues and a bottle of disinfectant.

"Wipe" Candy notions to her.

Claire nods and dabs a damp tissue onto his hand, wiping away the puss. She tries to look a way as she does so. Candy squeezes the skin around the wound and releases more and more of the thick goo. Shawn bites down on the belt as hard as he can. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but salty droplets still seem to make their way down the sides of his face. He clenches his fingers in an attempt to make the pain go away…

"All done." Candy suddenly says. "She grabs the tissues and adds a little more disinfectant to them, and then wipes the wound one more time.

Claire has a new roll of bandages waiting for her. She gives her a reassuring smile as she takes them from her, and begins to unwrap.

"Just gotta fix you up with a new bandage" she tells Shawn.

He lets the belt drop from his mouth and to the floor of the car, breathing heavily. He nods exhaustedly.

"Thank you."

-------------------------

Well. What do you think? I know I've taken ages again, but I am really struggling to find the time to write, grr, and I love writing this story…almost as much as you like reading it. Anyhow, Thanks for the reviews, and keep R and R…ing, Nite, Cesca, x


	22. Chapter 21: What would they say?

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 21: What Would They Say? -------------------------

"Well this is my stop" Candy says, inwardly. "You kids keep safe".

She gives them a small smile.

"Thanks so much, for everything, and the lift an' all…" he turns to go, but turns back again, "...I suppose your name really does fit your personality. You're very sweet." Shawn says, sticking his right hand out for her to shake it.

It isn't something he'd usually do, and really, when he thinks about it guys don't usually shake girls hands, but he thinks it feels right under the circumstances. Claire stands beside him, as though waiting for her turn.

Candy shakes her head awkwardly. "Why, thank you Shawn"

She shakes his hand through the car window. She needs to park her car in her friends driveway, but she can do it when they've gone.

"Quite a hand shake you got there." She states enthusiastically.

"Thanks" Shawn winks. "You too." This is the Shawn everyone back home is used to. Maybe he hasn't forgotten himself just yet.

Claire steps forwards and closer to Candy's window. "You're a wonderful person, and we'll never forget how much you helped us."

"Thank you Claire - you better not forget me, especially when you're rich and famous"

"Rich and famous?" she says confused.

"Of course, with a face like that, you'll go far, and I'm pretty sure there's a lot of talent in that head of yours, I don't know what its for, but I know its there."

Claire blushes. "Thanks."

After the series of appreciative comments are over they proceed to walk away. Candy observes them for a few moments as they walk down the road. She watches as Shawn wraps an arm around Claire's shoulder. She wonders if they'll be okay, if she should invite them in with her. She knows they won't accept her offer though, she'd probably phone social services or something like that. She can't deny that she wouldn't. It just seems like the right thing to do. She isn't sure if they can survive on their own. They know that. They can see it in her eyes and they aren't stupid. It means they know she cares anyhow. Candy smiles, and then, as soon as she had appeared she disappears.

Shawn looks back as Candy's car descends round the bend of the roads crossing and vanishes from his view. He sighs.

"You know, I think…" he utters thoughtfully. "…I think the only reason I'm still here…is because of people like you and…her, you're what makes this place bearable"

Shawn pauses and glances up at Claire with a gormless smile.

She takes her eyes from her feet and looks up at him. "Yeah, I know what you mean, except with me - its people like you."

Shawn's grin widens. He stops walking and just stands still for a moment.

"What is it?" Claire questions, a step in front of him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Claire stands there, staring at him, wondering what he's doing, and then, out of the blue, he steps forwards once, his arms dangling ineptly at his sides. He leans closer in to her and as his soft lips make contact with her cheek, she feels a strange kind of warmth flow over her body and tingle inside.

He pulls back quickly and begins to fidget with his bandages. She stands there a moment before continuing to walk on, a smile forming on her lips. It was only a peck on the cheek, but it makes her feel a little high on life. she can't even think of the right words to describe what she'd felt; what she still feels; what she's never really felt before. Shawn's uncomfortably silent appearance makes her smile grow. She reaches out a hand and touches him on the shoulder.

"What was that for?" she asks steadily.

Shawn glances at her face and then at the surroundings behind her. He feels afraid to look her in the eyes. He isn't quite sure why. They're in a city area now, small white houses and lamp posts surrounding them.

"I err, don't know, I suppose I felt like it. I couldn't help myself. I thought it would make you feel better anyhow"

Claire laughs lightly.

"Hey." Shawn says with a hurt expression. "What's so funny?"

She realises what he must be thinking and shakes her head in amusement.

"Shawn. I'm not laughing at you." She replies.

"Well, you weren't laughing with me. That's for sure."

Claire wipes the smile off of her face.

"Shawn, stop being so serious, I liked it. It was nice. Thank you."

Shawn lets the defensive look from his eyes drop and he feels his face flushing. "You did?"

Claire nods slowly. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry" he tells her. "It's just, I've never been so afraid of kissing a girl…You're so different from all the other girls in school. There's something about you, in good way I mean."

"The famous Shawn Hunter, afraid of kissing a girl. What would they say?"

Claire's smile is evidently apparent on her face again.

Shawn lets a small chuckle escape his throat. "How do you know I'm famous?"

"…And on the cheek as well" she adds.

"Well, actually, I've never kissed a girl on the cheek before."

"Really?" Claire says smiling enthusiastically.

"Yep." He replies. "I mean, I never wanted to. It was all very pointless really. But hey we're kids, we do stupid things. Besides, here with you, I've found something that isn't pointless at all." Shawn doesn't break eye contact with her this time. He isn't afraid anymore.

"And what's that?" she enquires curiously.

Shawn blinks. "Happiness."

Claire's expression changes ever so slightly, to that of a much more serious one. She reaches her hand out towards his head and strokes a strand or two of his hair away from his eyes, like she had done that day back at the abandoned park.

"I remember when you would have jumped away at me… doing that" she says almost in a whisper, a serene smile painted into her lips and her eyes tinted with a glazy layer of a salted water.

Shawn's expression fades slightly from it's natural colour into a somewhat blushing shade of red. He gulps. It feels so long since that day… yet it's only just over a week ago. He lets out a small laugh.

"What is it this time?" Claire says, her amused expression coming back.

"Nothing. Its just, I feel so close to you and I've only known you a week. It makes me laugh is all, all the people in my life, people I've known all my life who've never been there, and then you come along and you're here, and you make me happier than anyone ever has… and yet, I've only known you a week."

"Hmm..." Claire sniffs, "I see what you mean."

"Maybe…" She starts. "…Maybe we have a lot in common."

"How?" he says. "I mean, you're incredibly smart, and I'm failing 9th grade"

"Shawn, we're about as smart as each other" she says disbelievingly.

"Claire, come on now. Your last English paper, what'd you get?" he asks with a most simple sense of frankness in his voice.

Claire rolls her eyes at him.

"Come on." He encourages.

"A 'B'."

Shawn smirks. "I got an E for my last paper, you were one grade off an A, I wasn't even one grade of a pass, Yeah, Claire, I'm just as clever as you"

"Hey, well if I'd been through what you'd been through, I don't think I'd be able to get more than an E in a stupid English paper that doesn't even matter. It doesn't prove anything."

She really gets herself worked up. She doesn't like him putting himself down. She'll defend him, even against himself and she'd do it for as long as needed.

"Wait a minute" Shawn says. "How can you say that?"

Claire looks at him puzzled.

"What are you talking about, how can I say what?"

He stares at her in disbelief.

"Say that you haven't been through what I've been through, how can you just lie to me like that?" he's almost yelling, but not at her; never at her.

"What do you mean?" she says, a look of pure confusion in her eyes.

"Don't lie to me Claire, please don't lie to me…I know your Dad or someone did something to you, I'm not sure exactly what it was, but I know it was bad, you're right I'm not stupid."

"How, did you know?" she says, tears welling up in her eyes.

"How? Like you said, the grades don't prove anything, I'm not that dumb, so I can see the signs when they're right in front of me, and I bet you'd get straight A's"

"What signs?" she asks, her voice trembling.

Shawn takes on a more sympathetic tone of voice as he answers her.

"Claire" he repeats her name softly, softly like it was a delicacy not to be tempered with. "You're running away, and away from something… I saw the marks on your wrist, the back of your neck." He sighs. "And, the way you see yourself, the way you feel. Oh you don't know how obvious, its been to me."

Claire looks up at the sky.

"I suppose, I should have told you. After everything you trusted me with."

"No." Shawn says freely, "Just because I tell you something so important to me, doesn't mean you have to give anything up to me. I know its hard…you're like the first person I've really told. Believe me, I know its hard, and I know you do too. I'm not blaming you for anything and… I'm sorry I yelled. I don't know, its just you're so important to me, I can't bear the thought of you not trusting me. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, just know… that I don't care whatever it is, I'll never abandon you."

Claire sniffs. "I can believe that" she says, teary eyed but smiling.

Shawn lowers his head. Looking at her tear streaked cheeks only makes him want to cry himself, but he doesn't want to. He wants to be strong, be strong for her, like she'd been for him. He sees two pairs of old size 6 sneakers step into his view below. She feels warm against his chest, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing ever so gently. He lets himself relax in her arms and exhale deeply. He can smell the perfume of her hair rising from his shoulder where her head rests. He finds himself lifting his arms up and squeezing her back.

"I suppose it'd be okay to consider each other best-friends then?" Claire says softly, her head still resting upon his shoulder.

"Yeah. Definitely." He pauses and sighs. "I got one back home though, I kinda wish I'd said good bye to." He hugs her tighter into him and then pulls her away slightly, so he can see her face.

"We have to go back some time… I need to sort some things out."

A glint of fear reflects in Claire's eyes.

"oh…not any time soon…" he reassures her. "I just meant I have to, I mean I really have to go back… sometime."

They hug for a short while, both enjoying the company of each other. Shawn thinks about how close he feels to Claire, and how he needs to be honest with her. She's helped him, she's told him the truth, so he needs to be honest with her. He needs to tell her the whole truth. He needs to tell her about the woman in critical condition, with the torture basement in her home. The woman he thought he'd killed.

-------------------------

Well, what do ya think people? I def must have lost some fans taking so long… but ya I wont promise any dates for the next chapter, cause I always seem busy and suffocating with work lately… but however it is Easter holidays now, so I shall prob try and get 3 or 4 chappies done during the next 2 weeks, so hang on. Thanks for all your support, and I'm so, so, so sorry I took so long… I know the annoyance of it all being an once obsessive fanfic reader… too busy now lol. Ya. Take care all. Cesca, x

P.S. R&R if possible. Danka.


	23. Chapter 22: Drowning Without Drowning

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 22: Drowning Without Drowning -------------------------

"Jefferson City" Shawn states, his head hidden by the two foot map. "We're not far from there."

The street lamps guide his eyes over the various spaghetti like markings that crowd the spaces of the map. Claire nods at his statement and breathes out warm air into her numbing hands.

"So… where do you think we should go?" She asks. "I have an uncle in California. He's pretty nice… maybe he'll let us stay at his place for a while"

He can hear the eagerness in her voice, along with the chattering of her teeth.

"I don't know…" Shawn says hesitantly. He lowers the map in one swift movement. "…He might call someone. I mean, that's what most adults would do. We have to be as careful as we can. As for where I think we should go, I don't know again, anywhere safe I suppose, if that's possible."

Claire wraps her fingers around his arm for a moment. She can hardly feel them.

"He's a pretty cool person, he won't tell on us," she protests softly.

Shawn folds the map up until its small enough to stuff into his hooded jumper pocket. He sniffs, the icy night air creating droplets of nasal mucus to drip from his nose. It's pretty late, probably around eleven thirty. They'd not been travelling for too long, because after they'd left Candy, they had spent about 3 hours in a diner restaurant. Maybe they should have started travelling when it was still warm. The days are hot, but the nights have become cold and bitter

"You wanna find shelter again?" he asks, watching Claire breathe into her hands again.

She nods. "More than anything."

"I was looking at the map, and I think there's a truck stop diner not far from here. Maybe we can hang out there for a while," he says, "Should be just a few roads away - not much more than a half mile."

"C…o…ol" she chatters, trying to force a smile.

Shawn yawns, facing one of the street lamps. He feels warm and tingly for a short moment. His breath creates a mist in the air.

"You ever smoked?" Claire asks curiously.

He turns to her, nodding. "Yup, but I don't like it… my Mum used to smoke, but she managed to quit. I remember she'd always be sticking these patches on her arm, and I'd ask her if she'd been hurt, and she'd say: "No sweetie, I'm trying to stop the hurt." And then she'd tell me never to be a smoker, and that if I did then my fingers would turn yellow, my breathe would smell funny, and the smoke would distract people from the 'sweetness' of my face."

Claire lays her numbed hand inside Shawn's hoodie pocket and curls her fingers around his frozen ones.

"She sounds nice," she says.

"Yeah…she was" he sighs "…until she left… But then again, who could blame her? Only me, I guess."

Shawn smiles a sad sort of smile and stares down at the concrete ground as it fades. "By the time he'd finished with her… I don't think either of us were sane…"

The frosty air stings his glazed over eyes. Everything he says seems to be depressing and bad. Everything in his life makes him want to cry, and even though he's cried so many times before, he still manages to always cry some more. Even after his vows. Claire squeezes his undamaged hand lightly inside the pocket. Shawn looks up at her and gives her a look of appreciation; appreciation for her company; appreciation for her kindness, but most of all appreciation for the calming effect she has on him, and the way she makes him feel kind of safe.

"Look at that" he suddenly says.

"What?" Claire asks, confused.

"You ask me if I've ever smoked and I still manage to end up depressing the hell out of you" he laughs.

Claire smiles. "I know, just imagine how depressed we'd end up if I asked you if you'd ever had a chocolate milkshake, seriously, all hell would break loose."

"Hey" Shawn says in a defensive manner, "...my mum used to be addicted to chocolate milkshakes..."

"Really?" Claire says disbelievingly.

"No" he laughs. "Strawberry."

Claire laughs. "My favourite too" she says.

They carry on walking down the street, heading for the truck stop diner, some half a mile in front of them. They laugh and talk all the way, and with every laugh they feel more and more closer to each other and further and further away from where they used to be.

-------------------------Wednesday 8th June 1994 00:10 - Fifteen Minutes Later -------------------------

"There it is." Shawn states.

"I thought we'd never find it" Claire says restlessly.

There stands the 'Ozark Travel Stop'. An old truck stop diner with a reasonably large parking lot to one side of it and a few small trees surrounding it's entrance. Larger trees tower over the building from behind a wiry olive coloured fence. A sign, green and aluminised hangs above the entrance, waiting for them. It reads: 'Ozark Travel Stop, Springfield.' The parking lot is full up. More than they'd expected it to be at such a small diner.

"Come on then. Lets get something to eat, and get some rest" Shawn tells Claire.

They're both freezing. Shawn wishes they sold gloves in truck stop diners. They both follow the path leading to the entrance of the diner and then, Shawn, wrapping his fingers around the ice like metal handle of the door, drags it open. He holds it open for Claire to walk through.

"Thanks" she smiles with gratitude, glad to be out of the cold.

As soon as the door closes and they walk towards the seats a wave of warm air passes over them. "Thank God" Shawn whispers.

There aren't too many people in there, only a couple of men and women and surprisingly more children than anything else. Two twin girls with dark hair lie asleep on one of the bench like seating. They look about nine years old at most.

"How sweet..." Claire remarks as they walk past the two.

Shawn smiles. "Yeah."

A few young boys are talking at the back of the diner. One laughs, and stares at Shawn and Claire as they slide into a seat of their own. They sigh as they sit, finally able to rest.

"Hello, who are you?" a loud, but sweet young voice says from behind them.

Shawn turns, and Claire looks up from where she's sitting, opposite Shawn. A small girl, who looks to be no more than five years old, stares down at them, standing on the seating behind them. She has the bubbliest smile they'd ever seen and a quaint innocent charm that only young children often have. Her short blonde curls hang down just below her tiny shoulders and her emerald eyes scrunch up with her smile. Shawn gives Claire a glance.

"Hello" They both say.

"Hello" the small girl repeats. "My name is Shelly… What's yours?"

"Mine? Mine is Shawn, and this is Claire" he says smiling at the girl.

She bounces up and down somewhat on the green and puffy leather seats, her hands holding onto its sides.

"Hey… My mummy's name is Claire too" she says in an endearing little high pitched tone of voice.

She has a couple of teeth missing. She must be starting to lose her baby teeth.

"Shelly" Claire says slowly. "Is your mummy not here with you?"

"Yes she is." Shelly laughs.

"Can you point to where she is?" she asks the little girl.

"Yeah!" she says, and she lifts her arm up, pointing straight at the thirteen

year old Claire in front of her. "You're my mummy." She giggles.

Shawn laughs. "You heard the girl. You're her mummy... That was quick."

Claire shakes her head in amusement.

"Shelly" Shawn tries this time. "Do you not know where you're real mummy is?"

She nods her head.

"So you don't know where she is?" he says.

She shakes her head in disagreement.

"She probably works here" Claire supposes, "One of waitresses or something"

"Yeah, she works here." Shelly interrupts confidently.

"Oh right, well that's okay then." Shawn says. "She a waitress?"

Shelly shakes her head. "No, she doesn't work in here."

Shawn gives Claire a puzzled look and turns back to Shelly. "Where does she work then?"

"Outside this place" she replies. "She'll come and get me soon."

"Oh" Shawn says.

"Do you like lizards?" Shelly asks curiously.

Shawn sniggers quietly "Yeah. Yeah I like lizards, and snakes too."

"Ew…" Shelly squeals. "Snakes are slimy"

"I think you mean worms" Claire laughs.

"They're both slimy, and scary" she replies in disgust. "What about cats? Do you have a cat?"

"I've never had any pets, have you?" Shawn asks.

Shelly nods her head. "I had a pet mouse once, but it ran away" she pouts her bottom lip. "His name was Henry" she says sadly.

Shawn gives Claire a look of awe. Shelly is really quite cute, but they still wonder where her mother is.

"I had a pet dog, back home" Claire says. "His name is Sparky, and he can balance things on his nose."

"Wow..." Shelly says in amazment. "Henry could dangle from his cage by his tail".

"Wow." Claire repeats. "Thats so cool." she smiles.

The small girl disappears back into her seat.

"How lovely..." Claire begins.

Shelly's face suddenly pops up from behind the seating once more, interrupting her.

"This is baby Shelly" she says, pulling a small doll up so they can see it.

Some of the dolls hair is missing, and its face is stained with pen markings.

"She's me when I was a baby."

Claire laughs again. This girl is still a baby.

"Really, is she as lively as you as well?"

"Sometimes." Shelly nods. "She has a friend. His name is Albert"

She vanishes from their view again and returns with another doll. This time a smaller doll, a troll with matted pink hair that sticks right up toward the ceiling.

"So is this baby Albert?" Shawn asks.

"No… Albert doesn't live as long as Baby Shelly. He grew up, and he's no baby anymore."

She holds the two dolls in opposition with each other.

"Can I have a few weeks of your life please?" she says in the lowest pitched voice she can do, trying to give Albert a voice. "Only, you have way more life than me".

Shawn and Claire laugh again. This girl is funny. She makes her voice even higher pitched than it already is to play Baby Shelly.

"No. I've got too much to live for… Why should you get longer than you're mean't too…" she mimics.

She doesn't play like any other children Shawn has seen. 'What's she doing?' He thinks to himself, creating a drama piece using a doll and a troll? Either way it's cute and quite amusing to watch. The things she is saying are beginning to sound weird as hell, but they laugh anyway.

"Because I'm better than you, so Nuh…" she says sticking her tongue out at the doll, even though she'd been filling in for only Albert's voice.

"Shelly?" a young woman's voice suddenly calls from across the diner room.

"Mummy!" Shelly yells in her squeaky voice.

She runs over to the pale, slim brunette standing at the truck stop entrance. "We gotta go now" she says.

The woman glances at Shawn and Claire who smile, and wave goodbye to the little girl. She gives them a small smile, and then takes Shelly by the hand and walks out the door.

"Bye…" they hear Shelly say before the closing door cuts off the sound of her voice.

"Sweet kid" Shawn says, sitting back in the chair.

"Yeah. Bit late for her to be up though isn't it?" Claire replies.

She glances up at the clock hanging above a small framed painting on the wall, to the side of them. It reads ten past twelve.

"I know what you mean" Shawn says. "Why are all these kids here at this time?"

Claire shrugs her shoulders. "It's weird."

Shawn smiles inquisitively, staring down at the small napkin on the table where his left hand lies.

"What is it?" Claire asks.

He looks up at her. "I was just wondering what you were like when you were five."

"Really? And what exactly did you wonder?" she smiles too.

"That maybe you were as sweet as that little girl. That I would've liked you as a kid as well, and that I missed out alot by not seeing those years of your life. Though I don't know if it's possible to match your cuteness now."

Claire blushes. "Thanks"

"So what were you like as a kid?" he asks.

Claire turns her head to the side a little, and thinks for a moment.

"I don't think I ever played with dolls" she says. "I was more of a tree climbing kind of girl."

Shawns smile widens. "Oh really? Tell me more."

"Well…" she laughs. "I remember I fell out of a tree once and I landed on my head"

Shawn laughs, and then feels somewhat guilty about it. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I" she states, giggling.

"And then there was the time I fell in the stream…" she says, but her laugh fades quickly, though a small smile stays embossed into her lips.

"What is it?" Shawn asks.

"Oh, nothing" she replies.

"Come on Claire, one minute you're laughing and the next you look like your grandma just died... well slight exaggeration, but still." He says, concerned.

"Was just a bad day is all, we all make fun of our bad days eventually."

"Did you almost drown?" he asks.

Claire shakes her head. "No, the water was only a foot deep."

"Oh" he says.

"But my Dad was waiting for me when I got home. I was soaked from head to toe."

A stab of anger and sympathy strikes him and he reaches a hand over and pulls her hand under the table, holding it there.

"How old were you?" he whispers.

"Nine" she whispers back. "He threw me in the back of his truck and made me tell him where I'd been. He said he'd show me what could've happened and when we got there, he pushed my head under the water… drowning me without really... drowning me."

She doesn't cry this time. She doesn't cry too much anyhow, but she doesn't feel sad enough to cry right now. Shawn wants to cry for her, he wants to make all her pain go away, but he knows that's impossible, despite that fact that she often eased his.

"Can I take your order please?" A large red haired waitress in a black three-quarter skirt and a red shirt interrupts. She sounds rather disinterested in them or their business, and has her pen already ready for taking notes, already marking her note pad.

-------------------------

Well here's chapter 22. Hope you like it. And I'll hopefully start writing some of chap 23 today or tomorrow, depends on how fast I get a review, if I get one lol.

Later ppl, Luv Cesca, x

P.S. pls R&R if possible.


	24. Chapter 23: Porcelain

-------------------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

-------------------------

**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 23: Porcelain -------------------------

They are leaving the diner, having definitely outstayed their welcome after four hours of sitting around ordering hardly anything. It's a little crazy that a place should be open this long, but they aren't complaining. What is even more bizarre is the fact that two of the young boys are still left sitting at a table – they both look to be about nine and eleven years old. They'd watched from the safety of their seats as one parent or another had taken a child away - the last one had come around 3am.

"It's not right to leave a kid all on their own this long, and in a truck stop diner of all places!" Claire states in disbelief, looking back at the children through the glass panel of the door.

Shawn nods his head in agreement, but lifts his arm up slowly, squinting, and pointing at something. Claire, being distracted by the oddness of the children's predicaments doesn't notice this action.

"And at 4am in the morning… What bastards!" she continues.

"Claire…" Shawn says quietly.

"I just, don't believe people sometimes…" she finishes.

"Claire!" Shawn says a little louder, "Look." His voice shakes.

Claire follows the direction of where he is pointing, and for a few moments her heart skips a few beats. There lying in the dirt ridden mud puddles of the truck parking grounds lies a tiny young girl; there lies a curly blonde haired girl. There lies Shelly. They both run towards her, Shawn dropping to his knees beside her.

"I'll go get an ambulance!" Claire says, panicky, as she runs back into the diner.

It begins to rain again. It'd already rained for an hour and a half straight just another hour ago. Shelly looks so pale, especially under the moonlit sky. She's cold to touch, but she can't have been there long - someone would have noticed her - Her bubbly smile faded, and her tiny fingers stained with sludge and dirt, it'd be hard for her to get all the dirt out from beneath her nails. Her hair - matted and soaked into straight but entangled lines covering her face, her eyes. Her eyes are closed, the lids just as pale as her body.

"Oh my God" Shawn whispers breathlessly. "What happened to you?"

There aren't any signs of a struggle. No finger marks; no marks at all. Just a tiny body as still as can be lying, pale like a porcelain doll, on the damp and dirty ground. Shawn's eyes begin to blur, and it's hard to tell whether it's because of the rain drops affecting his vision or the tears welling up in his eyes – probably both.

"They'll be here in five minutes. There's a hospital not far from here!" Claire shouts, running back to the scene. "We need to get her inside…"

"She's just a little girl. Barely lived yet. What did she ever do?" Shawn weeps.

Claire kneels beside them both.

"Nothing. She did nothing." Claire says slowly, barely audible as she touches his arm lightly.

She reaches over and takes Shelly's wrist in her hands. The expression on her face is troubling, and she struggles to come to terms with what is happening.

"I…" she stutters. "She…" her voice shaking weakly. "Wait. I think I feel a pulse," she says. She's so cold and lifeless that it's hard to believe, but indeed there's a pulse and Claire had felt it.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Shawn utters desperately.

Claire nods. "Yeah, yeah she will, she'll be fine once we get her out of the cold and wet. Everything just looks real bad because of the mud and the rain, and the cold. B…But she'll be okay in no time… I just, I wonder where her mother's gone…"

Shawn stands, lifting Shelly up into his arms softly, and begins to half jog, half walk in the direction of the truck stop diner, once more. Claire runs in front of him, dragging the door open, as he walks inside.

"Help!" he screams as they enter the warmth of the building.

Two large blankets are already waiting for the young girl as he holds her tatty clothed, dripping body in his arms. The waitress who had served them earlier appears shocked. She lies a blanket down on one of the seating areas.

"Thanks" he states quickly, and lays Shelly down gently on the blanket.

The sound of sirens approaching is suddenly heard blaring louder and louder. Shawn runs his fingers through his dripping hair and sighs.

"Please be okay. Please be okay…" he whispers under his breath.

Claire comes from behind him, taking his hand softly in hers. They both stare at the now covered up Shelly with wary eyes, the events of the night getting more disturbing than confusing. The two boys that were sat in the diner when they'd first left are now standing and heading for the door. They rush out of it, just before red lights radiate through the glass panes of the diner building.

The waitress disappears outside as well. Shawn kneels beside Shelly, leaning forwards and stroking strands of hair from her face with the palm of his hand.

"Please be okay…" he whispers one last time.

She moves slightly under his palm.

"Shelly" he whispers. "Shelly, can you hear me?"

He looks down at her pale face. She doesn't say anything.

"Shelly?" he repeats anxiously.

"Mu, mummy…"she squeaks. "I.. want mummy…" she's on the verge of tears.

"Shhh…" He tries to calm her down, and stop her from being frightened.

"I… want my mummy…" she cries.

A second or two later the waitress appears, returning with two ambulance men dressed in green uniforms, both carrying a stretcher.

"There she is." She points to where shelly lies.

Shawn looks up from where he's knelt, both his hands wrapped around one of Shelly's tiny hands.

"She's awake. She just started talking, and asking for her Mum" he tells them.

The sound of Shelly beginning to cry brakes everyone's heart. Her sobbing grows louder as the room grows quieter. She keeps calling out for her Mummy, and nobody even knows who her Mummy is – only that her name is Claire.

"What's her name?" the shorter ambulance man with the greying hair asks Shawn.

"Shelly" he replies. "Her mother came and got her like hours ago… and then we came out just 10 minutes ago and found her on the ground, not moving, and we thought she might be… dead."

The man nods, and leans towards Shelly, kneeling. "Shelly?" he says questioningly. "Can you tell me your last name?"

Shelly lies there shivering and sniffing, and then a moment later she replies. "Ya…yeah, it's Pulski, Palksi…"

"Okay little miss, lets get you to the hospital." He says friendlily.

"I'll help" Shawn says eagerly, snatching her up gently in his arms and carrying her over to the stretcher.

"Thank you, but we'll take it from here kid" The other ambulance man says with a small smile. They let Shawn lay her down on the stretcher before beginning to leave.

"Wait…" Shawn calls. "C…can we come too?"

They turn. "Are you a relative?" the taller man asks.

"No, but, it seems she has no one, and I wanted to make sure she'll be okay."

The grey haired man sighs. "Come on then." His colleague gives him a glare. "What?" He says facing the other man, "Seems he cares about her more than her own mother does."

"Shawn?" Claire says attentively, grabbing his hand tightly. "Remember your phobia."

A knot forms in his throat. He wants to make sure Shelly is safe, but at the same time he risks being found out. 'There are millions of hospitals and millions of people. No one will find out anything about me…' he tells himself – and then he tugs on Claire's hand.

"I think I can get over it for this" he states.

"Okay…" Claire mumbles. "Come on then."

They follow the ambulance men outside. The rain has stopped. The moon shines down through the murky clouds once more, and the leaves sparkle with water drops. There the Ambulance van sits, parked right in front of the diner. One tree seems to crowd over it, casting a dark black shadow across one side of it. The red lights still flash, but the siren isn't booming. The men load Shelly up into the van, and then call for Shawn and Claire to hop in. They climb into the back of the ambulance, and the sirens begin again.

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I know these days I update like once every month or less lol, but its hard to be inspired enough for these kind of stories these days when I feel so happy. My boyfriend is greatness itself, my future looks bright, I'm confident with my inner and outer image, and I have a lot going for me, college rocks, and I know one day I'll be a great film maker, its my main goal in life, second being to adopt kids and raise a family, but that can wait till I'm at least 30 – in mean time, I'll still be film making a and writing during the whole raising a family process as well. Please R&R. I can understand if you're angry at the absence of my updates, but I have too happy to write depressing things recently – It was hard for me just writing this. The being busy all the time, and having to perform a play next week doesn't help with the writing fan fiction either, however I will have lots of free time in the summer to catch up.

As I said, Read and review please. And I hope you enjoyed this little Chapter, even if it is a little short compared to some of my earlier chaps.

Bye for now ppl.

Luv Cesca x


	25. Chapter 24: Fresh Air

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters from boy meets world! Blah, blah, blah...

I have taken the storyline from a few other fics that Shawn is abused by his father, but with a little twist; this now takes place after Shawn's mother has left him. All the rest is completely original.

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**PLEASE READ WARNING:** This story contains serious elements including severe physical, mental, sexual and emotional abuse, violence, Vulgarities, prostitution, Child endangerment, and the foster care system. You have been warned - if you want to read on, please do. There are also elements such as comedy, romance, friendship, the prevail of human spirit, criminal investigation, adventure, coming of age tales, bravery and thrills. It is a very diverse story, with a lot going on, however you may need a strong stomach and possibly a box of tissues if you're very sensitive - so sit tight, hold onto that cup of tea, and read on.

------------------------- Chapter 24: Fresh Air -------------------------

"Do you think they'll find her mother?" Claire asks, as they wait in the hospital corridor.

Shawn sighs. "I don't know... I suppose we don't know exactly what's happened yet.. she could have been attacked while leaving and been kidnapped or something like that, so who knows?"

Claire nods. "Yeah, you're right."

He doesn't like the smell of the place. It smells like the elderly and he doesn't even know what the elderly really smell like. He just knows the smell reminds him of them. He looks up and down the corridor, impatiently.

"They probably won't let us see her... Oh shit, there's definitely gonna be a police enquiry... they'll have to take our names, and then they'll probably find out we're missing or whatever, or at least that we're a long way from home, and they'll send us back..." he begins to panic. "Lets go see her now. She's just resting, we'll have to just say good-bye... What was I thinking?" He runs his hand through his hair shakily.

Claire grabs his arm.

"Calm down..." she tries to soothe, "...Even if they ask for our names I know that we won't be reported missing, I know my Dad won't have reported me missing, he won't want me to be found, he knows if I am they'll be many questions for the both of us..."

Shawn interrupts. "Yeah, but you don't get it... I might... There might be people..." His voice trails off.

"What? What... don't I get?" she asks, screwing her eyes, "Shawn, what aren't you telling me?"

He covers his ears with his hands. "No. I can't listen."

Claire stares at him in utter confusion, "I don't understand... listen to what?"

"No, too many questions, I can't answer any of them."

Claire opens her mouth to say something else, but closes it again, unsure of what to do. They're drawing attention now. She puts her hand on his back and pushes him towards the reception area of the hospital so that they can leave before drawing too much attention. He jumps under her touch, but stumbles in the direction she directs him toward.

"I'm sorry"

Claire doesn't say anything. She's afraid whatever she might say will trigger him off again.

"Yeah. Maybe I just need fresh air..."

"Yeah" she says, sighing, "We should go. We should find a beach or something, somewhere you can relax and forget..."

"...That.. that sounds nice." he mumbles, as they reach the reception and sneak out the door.

Shawn tenses as they pass two police officers on the way down the pale hospital entrance steps. They don't even look at them.

"Why do we always run into trouble?" he whispers gruffly as they reach the other side of the road and continue left down it.

"I don't know... I suppose we're just unlucky I guess."

"Yeah... you can say that again..." he sighs.

"I was looking on the map..." Claire says, her face lighting up somewhat "...and there really is a beach not too far from here... like about 30 miles or so away... not far by bus. I figure we can hop on a bus and go there. We could build forts, swim in the sea, get an icecream... think about it. We deserve a break."

Shawn is looking down at his shoes. He sighs again, but when he looks up he's smiling.

"You're really something... I mean it."

Claire blushes somewhat and holds her hand out for him. He takes it. The sun boils down brightly on their faces cascading oranges and white.

"What about Shelly?" he asks, his face tinted with worry, but somewhat calmer.

"She'll be the same whether or not we're waiting in that corridor."

That's what he likes about Claire. She tries to tell the whole truth. Most people he'd known often tried to distort the truth, or exaggerate whether or not it was for the benefit of those they were talking with. But Claire would tell it straight up what she thought. Instead of telling him Shelly would be fine and dandy, she said the only thing she knew were true.

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Hey, like, I'm going to try and finish this chapter tomorrow, but it's like almost 5am, I've gone over all the past chapters so they all look shiny and clean, and I'm going to try and finish this story, well continue, I still don't know how it will end exactly but i pretty much have everything planned out in my head, and it's still far from over. To new comers, you're the lucky ones, most of u will be, because I cant imagine many people would hang on for 2 years, while I go through the norms of teenage angst, and not having time for my dear old fanfiction. Sorry again guys. Its so baddddd. sorry. D :

Hope you're all doing fine. and enjoy. Like, I'll finish this chapter as soon as possible. Take care, Cesca, x


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